To Be a King
by Fergus Flamacron
Summary: DXW/LOTR. When the Digimon of Xros Heart are sent to Middle Earth by the Code Crown and Iluvatar, they must help its people to destroy the Sauron, while Shoutmon and Aragorn must work together to prove to themselves that they are worthy of their thrones.
1. A Different Earth

Hello again everybody. I won't write a long section about how it's good to be back and about how I've been doing because I did all of that for the first chapter of my other story, so if you're reading this one first then you can go and see it in the other one if you like. Anyway, I'd just like to say welcome to my other story and once again, thank you to everybody who gave me ideas, which wasn't many of you for this particular story, but, yet again, loads of thanks to **WhiteWolfPrincess95**, for her astonishingly large supply of ideas on this story.

Many of you might be thinking, how the heck is a crossover between Digimon and Lord of the Rings going to work? Well, I thought something similar when I came up with the idea, but the more I brainstormed for this idea the more things seemed to come together on their own.

I should warn you, I do NOT want to hear any smack about Digimon Xros Wars, as it is now my favourite season of Digimon and if you have nothing better to say in your reviews then just don't review at all please.

Also, this story is based more on the Lord of the Rings films than the books. It is also set after Digimon Xros Wars ends but before Digimon Hunters begins.

Almighty disclaimer – I decree that neither Lord of the Rings nor Digimon Xros Wars belong to me. Lord of the Rings and all its resultant genius belong to Tolkien and Peter Jackson for the movie version and Digimon Xros Wars belongs to Toei.

Please, enjoy the story.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 1:- A Different Earth**

* * *

The Sun blazed down on the land around it, rising higher into the sky as the day passed on, always drawing closer to the darkness and the time where her fellow, the Moon, would rise to take her place in the sky and cast his light upon the world. As they constantly rotated their position across the land of Middle Earth, the last flower and fruit of the Great Trees, Telperion and Laurelin, had seen many great changes in the land beneath them.

Changes which were sometimes slow and sometimes fast.

Changes which were sometimes good and sometimes bad.

But always changes, for better or for worse and often which affected the lives and the futures of everybody in Middle Earth, and possibly everyone in Arda itself.

Today was February the 22nd of the year 3019, in the Third Age of the Sun. Middle Earth lay resplendent beneath the golden light of said Sun. Running down its centre like a jagged spine, the Misty Mountains rose tall and pointed, each one like a single giant vertebrae capped with a thick layer of snow, like giant monoliths against the horizon for many leagues in any direction. The great kingdoms beneath the mountains continued out their dark existence where even the light of the sun did not penetrate. At its base stood the tower of Orthanc, surrounded by the fortress of Isengard, sticking out off the ground like a huge, stone column and its black stone glittering slightly in the light.

To the West of the Misty Mountains lay the Kingdom or Eriador, a vast landscape dotted with a few small forests and large, open grasslands. The ruins of the old watchtower of Amon Sûl, now known as Weathertop, cast a bleak reflection into the past on the lands around it. The insects swarmed in vast numbers through the Midgewater Marshes, seeking a fresh source of blood to suck, while on the Barrow Downs the fog rolled in like a constant eerie blanket, concealing forbidden secrets and ancient artefacts in the graves of the Kings of Old that now resided there.

The people of the village of Bree bustled about their daily business, haggling with one another and raking in what profits they could from the crops they had been able to grow in their gardens, or else entering the nearest end for yet another flagon of ale. The great swathes of grassland in the Enedwaith and Dunland remained silent and empty as faint breezes wafted the grasses from side to side constantly, the only sounds the occasional birdsong or crow caw, coupled with the odd wolf howl in the distance.

Up north, the olden Kingdom of Fornost on the North Downs lay barren and nearly forgotten, a testament to the work of the forces of evil in times gone by. The mountains of the Ettenmoors rose up near the top of the Misty Mountains, bathed in their shadow where untold ancient evils could possibly be stirring once again, and further north the old Witch Realm of Angmar sat and froze in the snow that now fell on it, a place where few would ever dare to tread, especially without cause.

Down to the South in the realm of Rhudaur, the great city of Rivendell sat in all its glory, glittering and artistic against the backdrop of the mountains and astonishingly elegant in its design and layout. It was truly a masterpiece on a very grand scale. To the west of that stood the peaceful country of the Shire, rolling green hills stretching out as far as the eye could see in any direction, and most every hill dotted with a round wooden door that led to the dwellings within, with each door surrounded by lush gardens filled with flowers of all descriptions.

Further to the West stood the Blue Mountains, smaller than the Misty Mountains but still titans of rock nevertheless and separated by the Gulf of Lune. At the tip of the great bay was the Grey Havens, the port city, where the glistening waters contained ornately carved and durable wooden ships, their sails fluttering in the late morning wind like gentle wingbeats.

On the other side of the Misty Mountains to the East was the next Kingdom – that of Rhovanion. Stretching nearly the length of the Misty Mountains themselves was the Great Forest of Mirkwood, its tall trees dark and its thick canopy blocking out the light of the sun to the ground below, where thick twisted trunks and winding roots plunged their way deep into the earth, long lines of line permeating through the few gaps in the leaves above to provide askew pillars of illumination.

Between the forest and the mountains began the river Anduin, the enormous winding river that stretched all the way through three entire kingdoms, its origins beginning in the Grey Mountains of the north, a darker range than the Misty Mountains and with a slightly more withered look about it. The Anduin flowed south and past the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, which positively glowed even in the darker nights, the golden light emitting from the leaves of its huge Mallorn Trees highlighting the radiance of its inhabitants. A stark contrast to the forest of Fangorn even further to South and just east of Isengard, who's trees were so dark that they were almost black and were even more twisted and ancient looking than those in Mirkwood.

Further to the East of Mirkwood stood the old Laketown, now named Esgaroth, a sprawling city of wooden piers and platforms with their houses built on stilts in the middle of the lake situated in the middle of the river Celduin. Further north stood the Lonely Mountain, also known as the Kingdom of Erebor, which stuck out against the rest of the landscape like a colossal stone giant carved into the landscape, it's great gates sat at the base and leading out towards the city of Dale that surrounded the entrance.

Continuing East from there was the Iron Hills, which stretched close to the border of the next Kingdom of Rhûn, with its massive semi-arid grasslands and with the river Celduin continuing down its centre to join up with the Sea of Rhûn, the water rippling and lapping against the sides of the shore and the Red Mountains, aptly named for their deep hue brought about by the deep heat of the sun and tectonic upheaval, producing many sparkling minerals of golden and copper.

Descending South into the Kingdom of Rohan, covered with its huge grassy plains beaten down by the tracks of many horses over the years from the East Emnet to the West Emnet and split by the Entwash river and bordered once again by the river Anduin, which was not halted even by the enormous falls of Rauros that fell over the clifftops near Amon Hen in a single colossal cascade of liquid, to meet with the mouths of the Entwash and continue onwards, past the huge rocky labyrinth of Emyn Muil and the stagnant Dead Marshes which stretched on for miles and miles around them.

Not far out from Isengard and on the other side of the Gap of Rohan was the great fortress of Helm's Deep, the tower of the Hornburg stretching taller even than the mountains around them and its huge Deeping Wall providing a nigh impenetrable barrier to the back of the ravine in which it lay. The lesser protected city of Edoras was mounted on a hill not far away from the fortress, its wooden buildings rising ever higher into the sky and culminating in the Golden Hall of Meduseld at its peak.

To the south of Rohan and separating it from the Kingdom of Gondor was the White Mountains that passed from east to west in another jagged line of peaks. At the eastern tip was Gondor's capital city, the White City of Minas Tirith, standing tall and magnificent as the day that it had first been built, seven consecutive levels of white walls separated by gates, and at the very top the Hall of Kings and the Tower of Ecthelion seeking to touch the sky. The fabled White Tree sat in its topmost courtyard, shimmering in the light of the Sun.

And across the Fields of Pelennor at is base was the embattled city of Osgiliath, stretching across one of the last stages of the Anduin river, which flowed down Gondor until it finally reached its mouth by Lebennin and entering the enormous Bay of Belfalas. Next to Osgiliath were the lush plains of Ithilien and to the south of them was the hot and arid desert landscape of Near Harad, scorching in the light of the sun with its sand blowing near constantly across its surface in thin sheets of rough material.

And then, to the west of Gondor and a mere few leagues from Minas Tirith, there lay another place – a place where sunlight never reached despite the fact that it was mostly open to the sky. Thick black clouds spread out over the top of it, and everything was bathed in shadow within the enormous U-shaped mountain range, made up of the Ash Mountains and the Mountains of Shadow, and connected together in the northwest corner by a huge set of thick, Black Gates. This was Mordor, the land of darkness. At the foot of the mountains on the opposite side was the ghostly city of Minas Morgul, and in the mountains above, the tower of Cirith Ungol looked down on the Mordor landscape.

A barren land of nothing but waste where no plants grew. Violent volcanic eruptions launched out of Mount Doom, causing the lands to be covered in thick layers of ash that was almost constantly replenished. The land was rocky and clogged with dust and the only water seemed to come from the black, oily inland Sea of Nurnen and its filthy rivers. The plains of Gorgoroth around Mount Doom were riveted with huge pits and ravines that were often filled with lava flowing constantly down from the mountains. And not far away from the volcano itself stood Barad-dûr, the Dark Tower.

Middle Earth could truly be called a world of many environments. Everywhere you might go had different flowers and grasses and plants, and no matter where you went the scenery changed. It was never exactly the same and, for the most part, it was absolutely breath-taking. The mountains, the valleys, the forests, the plains… it was a realm of diversity.

* * *

And this fact held true for more than simply the land. The same could be said for its people as well, for there were many different races and cultures throughout all of Middle Earth.

By far the most widespread was Man. Men were everywhere, stretching right through Rohan and Gondor, down to Harad and across to Rhûn, up into Eriador, Esgaroth and Dale. Men seemed to exist in almost all of the open spaces throughout Middle Earth, giving them much dominion over its lands and its resources.

They built their civilisations from their tiny villages to their great cities wherever they dwelt, and Man came in a wide variety of different cultures. This included such things as the war-like Easterlings from Rhûn, to the nomadic wanderers of Harad, to the disciplined men of Gondor, the horsemen of Rohan and even the Wild Men who lived in Dunland.

Man had been the second race of beings to be created by Ilúvatar, and they bore the supposed gift of mortality, meaning that they all, eventually came to die, whether it be through battle, through sickness, or simply for having lived for so long in this World. But some of the other races were different in many ways to Man. One notable example were the Firstborn, the beings to be created by Ilúvatar before Man – the Elves.

Elves were the noblest of Middle Earth's numerous races, and existed before even the Sun and the Moon came into being. The Elves were also known as the Eldar, and they were a much more secretive people than Men, living mostly in deep forest places such as Mirkwood and Lothlórien. They were also the fairest of the races, tall of build with pointed ears that were far keener than that of Men, as well as eyes that were far sharper. They were slender and strong, they did not need sleep and they even had the mental capacity to communicate to one another without speaking.

Unlike Men, Elves were immortal. Though they could fall in battle just like Man, their spirits were forever tied to Middle Earth and would remain there for all of eternity. However, since they were impervious to age or disease, an Elf's spirit could remain in its body from the beginning to the end of the world if not killed on the battlefield. Even then, they could easily recover from wounds that would kill a Man on the spot.

However, the Elves were not a war-like race. They possessed a fascination of all things beautiful, especially nature, loving the trees and the stars above almost all else. They were good by nature and despised evil, and when the time came for them to fight they could wield sword and bow with a precision that few Men could ever hope to match. Despite this, the Elves would not usually go to war, preferring instead to remain in their forests, or in their sanctuaries in places such as Rivendell and the Grey Havens, determined to keep away from all other beings.

Especially the Dwarves.

The Dwarves were different from Men and Elves in numerous other ways. They were shorter and stockier for one thing, coming up to the ribcage of an average Man, and they were created by one of Ilúvatar's closest servants, though Ilúvatar himself had given them life bringing them out into the world after the Elves. They were stronger in body even than the Elves and every one of them, even the women, grew long beards which they prided themselves on.

They were very proud and stubborn and full of endurance and they, like Men, were mortal, but they possessed much longer lives, living up to an average length of two-hundred and fifty years. They were able to resist great heat, and carry heavy burdens with ease, and this, combined with the fact they could learn new skills with ease, made them ideal experts at mining for precious gems and stones in the bowels of the earth and crafting things from stone.

To that end, the Dwarven People make their homes in the very mountains themselves, creating great cities and structures from the stone around them. They also had a tendency to be greedy, which is what prompted them to dig ever deeper pits to search for more of the jewels.

Elves and Dwarves alike were also fine smiths, meaning they could create many fabulous armours and weapons, which the Elves forged with their magic and the Dwarves crafted with their skill. Though the two races were similar in some aspects, they were otherwise as different as could be, and, for the most part, they never met. The Dwarves preferred to stay out of dense woodlands, while the Elves found the deep caves claustrophobic.

But this was ideal for both their races, as both had an intense dislike for the other.

But before we delve into that, there is one other race that deserves a mention, and that race is the Hobbits.

Nobody really knows where Hobbits, or Halflings, originated from, but some people believe them to have once been Men. However, they differed from Men in many aspects, most notably their height, as a full grown hobbit was shorter even than a Dwarf, usually less than three feet in fact. They had pointed ears like the elves, and they also had furry feet with relatively thick soles, like leather, so most of them never worse shoes. Sometimes they could be fat, but they could also be quick of both wit and body.

Hobbits were peace-lovers, who liked nothing more than food, farming and parties, and most of all, quiet. They lived in small hobbit-holes in the ground in the country of the Shire, and they mostly preferred to socialise with other Hobbits, generally keeping away from strangers and the potential dangers of the outside world. What happened outside the borders of their country was none of their business, or so most of them believed.

These four races made up the majority of sentient life that covered Middle Earth. There were others, of course, but Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits combined were the most widespread by far. And yet, while there were some instances of the four species living together, such as the Men of Dale living alongside the Dwarves of Erebor, for the most part, they all kept to themselves.

For Middle Earth was a divided world. A world where different races and cultures preferred to solve their own problems with their own strengths rather than rely on others. It was not always the case. In the past ages, Elf and Dwarf and Man would work together and fight side by side against the forces of darkness, although the hobbits still always preferred to keep to themselves. But, slowly, the relationships between the great races declined.

There were many events that conspired to form the Elves and the Dwarves apart, including the hunting of a group of Dwarven People by the Elves, and the murder of an Elf Lord and subsequent attack on an Elf City by the Dwarves in times gone by. The Dwarves then preferred to stay in their Mountains and sort out their own troubles, and when the Elves relationships with Men also started to deteriorate due to the countless number of wars and destruction the mankind brought upon itself, the Elves too had retreated into their woodland homes to let Man fend for itself.

And so, Middle Earth had been gradually falling into disrepair, with the various races and peoples, including those other than the Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits, staying clear of one another and minding their own business.

However… there were often times where separation could mean the ruin of all.

* * *

Such a time including the present day in question where the sun was blazing out across Middle Earth. For evil had long been rising in the dark land of Mordor and at its present rate, it was only going to get stronger.

True evil had begun in Middle Earth long before the First Ages of the Sun. After Ilúvatar had created his personal servants, the Ainur, who had weaved the world through song, several of them had descended into the world and become beings known as the Valar, incredibly powerful beings who lives across the sea from Middle Earth in a place called the Undying Lands, or Valinor. One of the mightiest of these Valar known under the name of Melkor, had become the first Dark Lord, and through him, evil had risen up in the lands of Middle Earth, including a vast assortment of new and unique dark creatures.

Such creatures included the orcs and their goblin subspecies, which had once been elves that were taken prisoner by Morgoth and viciously tortured and mutilated until they became nothing more than slavering and near mindless wild creatures whose only thought was the eradication of everything that sided with the Light. Other examples included the trolls and even the first of the dragons which had possessed their almighty strength that could tear down everything in their path, including the walls of the settlements of Elves and Men, and even Dwarves alike.

But Morgoth was long gone by the time of the Third Age of the Sun. He had eventually been defeated and cast down by his fellow Valar. He could not be killed, so they had imprisoned him in tight, unbreakable chains and cast him into the Void, where he would never be able to return to Middle Earth to continue his reign of darkness.

However, even then, the darkness had not completely gone from Middle-Earth. For Morgoth's Chief Lieutenant still survived and had not been captured as Morgoth had. His name was Sauron, and he was a Maiar, a lesser version of a Valar who also possessed incredibly great power, but could be killed. Nevertheless, he survived and went into hiding even after most of Morgoth's massive forces were destroyed, the majority of his most powerful monsters and servants eradicated and all signs of evil dispersed completely, Sauron had still remained, waiting for his chance to take over where his former Master had left off, and rise up as the new Dark Lord.

Sauron was different from Morgoth though. While Morgoth had wanted to destroy the world entirely, Sauron wished to be its ruler, and to dominate everything in it under his supreme rule. Immortally lived as he was, he stayed in hiding for five-hundred years, well into the Second Age of the Sun, before he had settled in Mordor and begun his first campaign, gathering up and multiplying the scattered orcs and trolls and begin to try and corrupt the hearts of several groups of power-hungry Men, who were easy to tempt.

Yet Sauron had wanted to bring all races under his thumb, especially the Elves since they were much stronger. So, disguised in a fair form and calling himself Annatar, he went to the old Kingdom of Eregion and befriended the Elven smiths to teach them knew methods of art and magic that they had not thought of in their wildest dreams. He was soon accepted into the Elven culture, though some of the more powerful and respected Elves did not trust him. Nevertheless, this time they were ignored, as by that point, Sauron had enamoured even the Elves with his gifts too much.

And so, the stage was set for Sauron to begin his master plan. He instructed the elven smiths in the art of forging the Rings of Power. The alleged purpose behind these Rings was to grant the bearers of them not only great power for themselves, but great prosperity for their kingdoms, which would allow all of Middle Earth to flourish in a time of order and peace where all the peoples could co-exist with one another without causing harm, inadvertent or otherwise, to any of the others.

But the real purpose… Sauron's real plan… was different. For Sauron knew more about Ring-making than he told the Elven Smiths, so as they forged their own Rings, three for Elven Rulers, Seven for the Dwarf Lords and Nine for the Kings of Men, Sauron returned to his Kingdom in Mordor and, using the volcanic fires of Mount Doom, he forged a Ring of his own at the same time. A Ring that which would have the power to bring the bearers of other Rings of Power under his command and control them utterly. He placed a large amount of his spirit and power into the Ring, binding his life-force to it, so that essentially the Ring and Sauron were one being combined.

However, all was not lost for Middle Earth, for the Elves had managed to sense what the Rings were for before they could begin to bear them, and so they had hidden the Three made for them away and not touched them, thus ruining Sauron's plan to control them as he began his true campaign against Middle Earth. The Dwarf Lords ruled their lands well with their Rings, frustrating Sauron again as they were too tough to be controlled and the only effect on them seemed to be an increase in their greed for precious stones.

The Men, however, succumbed easily to his plan and the powers of Sauron's Ring, now known as the One Ring. Soon they became to Sauron what Sauron had been to Morgoth – his nine lieutenants, evil, soulless wraiths known as the Nazgûl.

The foresight of the Elves was still a major blow to Sauron's plans, as had they fallen under his command then the results would have been catastrophic. However, during his period as Annatar, Sauron had mustered together huge armies of darkness and his tower of Barad-dûr had been built in Mordor and began his conquest of Middle Earth. He very nearly succeeded, but an ancient race of men called the Númenórians had been able to defeat him not only once, but twice, and had even been strong enough to take him prisoner.

But Sauron's black arts had prevailed again, and he had slowly begun to corrupt the Men of Númenór to his aims, making them start to worship Morgoth as the one true God, until he even became the advisor of the King himself through the power of his words, and even raised a temple that performed human sacrifices to Morgoth.

That was when Ilúvatar himself intervened. He brought forth a great flood which destroyed and drowned Númenór beneath the oceans, distorting the world so that only Elven made ships could sail across the sea to the Undying Lands and reducing all of Sauron's bodily power to nothing. Had it not been for the One Ring, Sauron would have been destroyed entirely, but since Sauron had put a portion of his spirit into the Ring and had bound his life-force and great deal of power into it, he had survived and fled back to Mordor once more. Some of the faithful Númenórians were saved from the flood, to found the Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor in Middle-Earth.

* * *

As Sauron grew in power yet again, one of these Númenórians, King Elendil, finally decided to take the fight to Sauron before his armies could come out of Mordor to oppress the world again. He re-ignited the old alliance with the Elves and one of their Kings, Gil-galad, and marshalled together a Last Alliance of Men and Elves who spent years preparing for their attack on Mordor. Finally, they were ready, and after a huge battle on the plains of Dagorlad, they were able to breach Mordor's Black Gates and take the fight to the plains of Gorgoroth on the slopes of Mount Doom, with thousands of orcs facing off against them in an almighty clash.

By this time though, Sauron had regained his form thanks to the survival of the Ring, and he was able to take to the field once again when the battle seemed to be going in the favour of the Alliance. Sauron's power proved to be too great and the Alliance was pushed back and the Kings Elendil and Gil-galad were personally slain by Sauron's hand.

But, just as the Alliance had lost hope, Elendil's son, Prince Isildur grabbed his father's sword of Narsil. Before he could lift it, Sauron shattered the sword under his boot and reached for Isildur, but Isildur still had the presence of mind to lash up, directly for the hand which held the Ring. He sliced Sauron's fingers off, separating Sauron and the Ring, and thus destroying Sauron's body once more.

But Sauron's spirit was still very much alive and would remain that way until the Ring was destroyed. As Sauron's spirit fled, Isildur picked up the Ring and, despite the urgings of Lord Elrond, an Elf from Rivendell, claimed it for his own. For, thanks to the power that Sauron had put into it, the Ring of Power had a will of its own and it had reached inside him and corrupted his heart right from the beginning, and no less than two years later, the Ring called out to a band of orcs which ambushed a small group that Isildur was leading. When mortal men put on the Ring, it made them turn invisible, so Isildur desperately tried this method to escape and dived into the river Anduin.

But the Ring had then betrayed him and slipped off his finger, sinking to the bottom. And so, Isildur had been spotted and shot in the back by orc arrows, killing him.

The Ring had settled at the bottom of the river Anduin to wait its next opportunity to get back to the spirit of its Master. As that Master began to gain strength bit by bit, the Ring continued to wait, settled in the silt for nearly two and a half millennia, until a pair of Hobbits stumbled across it on a fishing trip. Though the one named Déagol found it first, his cousin Sméagol was immediately take under the influence of the Ring and murdered his fellow Hobbit for it. Sméagol was then banished by his people for that act and he took it deep into the goblin caves riddling the Misty Mountains to live a long and nomadic lifestyle.

As the Ring stayed in Sméagol's possession, it began to have an adverse effect on him, poisoning his mind and warping his body until the Hobbit that Sméagol had once been was practically gone. Now reduced to a wretched, gangly creature that preyed on fish and the occasional goblin, Sméagol took the name Gollum. But the Ring knew that its Master was gaining strength in the nearby forest of Mirkwood, in the fortress of Dol Guldur, so it continued to live in Gollum's possession another five-hundred years, extending Gollum's average life-span far longer than was natural for his species.

When the Ring finally decided to leave its new owner, it slipped off his finger and fell down the tunnels of the mountains, expecting to be picked up by a Goblin that it would be able to influence into taking it to Mirkwood. Instead, it was picked up by another Hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins, who was far from home on an adventure of his own. When Gollum discovered that Bilbo had his "precious" he was enraged and chased after him, but Bilbo managed to use its powers of invisibility to escape from Gollum and continue on his journey.

That was how, when the Bilbo was finished with his adventure, the Ring came to return home with him to the green country of the Shire, home of the Hobbit people. Its plans had been foiled, for Sauron had been driven from Mirkwood and had now returned to Mordor, so it realised it had more waiting to do. It stayed with Bilbo for another sixty years, and began to slowly affect him in similar ways to Gollum. However, the Istari Wizard Gandalf the Grey, who was a Maiar just like Sauron, grew suspicious of the Ring and managed to convince Bilbo to pass it on before it gained too much of a hold over it.

And that was how the One Ring came to be in the possession of Bilbo's nephew, Frodo Baggins.

* * *

Gandalf had set out immediately to try and confirm his suspicions about the Ring. But, at the same time, Gollum – who had finally set out into the world to try and find his precious Ring, was captured by Sauron's orcs and brought to Sauron's fortress and tortured for information. After a great deal of pain, Gollum finally gave away what he knew about the Ring's location – that it had belonged to a Baggins who came from a place called the Shire.

Sauron had immediately set his sights on the Shire. His spirit still could not take on a physical body without the Ring, but it had managed to take the spiritual form of an enormous flaming Eye, which sat on the top of Barad-dûr and surveyed all of Middle Earth as he planned his next attack. He was recruiting once more, summoning his allies of old – the orcs, the trolls and the men from Rhûn and Harad and many more. And, most notably, the Nine Nazgûl were still very much in evidence. Armed with a target and a location, the Nazgûl had immediately set out for the Shire to retrieve the Ring.

Fortunately for Frodo, Gandalf had managed to confirm his suspicions and had learned of the information Gollum had given to Sauron, and hurried back to the Shire ahead of the Nine and warned Frodo. Unable to take the Ring himself for the incredibly strong effect it would have on a powerful being such as him, Gandalf had little alternative but to instruct Frodo to take the Ring himself and get out of the Shire and make for the village of Bree while he went to consult with a more powerful Wizard than he – Saruman the White.

Frodo set out, alongside his best friend and gardener Samwise Gamgee who had overheard the conversation between Gandalf and Frodo and was determined to do whatever he could to help. As they crossed the Shire, they also ran into fellow hobbits and Frodo's distant relatives, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, known as Merry and Pippin between them. While Frodo and Sam had planned to forge on ahead alone, the Nine had finally reached the Shire and one of their number gave all four hobbits a close encounter and a narrow escape. Merry and Pippin quickly agreed to help and with their assistance, Frodo and Sam were able to escape across the river on a ferry, which the Nazgûl were unable to cross without a bridge.

But Gandalf was now having far less fortune. He had travelled to Isengard and received some information he had been seeking from Saruman, but he was shocked to discover that Saruman had been corrupted by Sauron through the use of a Palantír, a Seeing Stone that Saruman had in his possession. Sauron also had one and had used it to turn Saruman to the path of darkness. Gandalf had attempted to escape and aid Frodo but Saruman had overpowered him and imprisoned him at the top of the tower of Orthanc.

Meanwhile, the four hobbits successfully made it to Bree, expecting to meet Gandalf at the Inn of the Prancing Pony, only to find him not there. Fortunately, Gandalf had had the presence of mind to send a friend of his to meet them there before he went to meet Saruman. And that was how Frodo met the Dúnedain Ranger known as Strider, who also went by another name – Aragorn, son of Arathorn and rightful King of Gondor. Since the death of Isildur thousands of years ago, Gondor had been ruled by Stewards instead of Kings, and though Aragorn knew of his birthplace, he did not desire it, preferring to live out his life as a Ranger.

However, at the Inn, Frodo had ended up accidentally putting the Ring on his finger after he lost his grip on it and fumbled to catch it… or rather, the Ring had deliberately fallen onto his finger. For the moment that Frodo put it on, both Sauron and the Nine knew exactly where he was, and the Nazgûl immediately rode towards Bree. Thanks to Aragorn's expertise, they were able to fool the Nine with dummies and escape, but Aragorn then became their guide in Gandalf's place, leading them towards Rivendell where they would be safe from the pursuing Nine.

But, when they reached the watchtower of Amon Sûl, five members of the Nine caught up with them and, though Aragorn fought them viciously to keep them at bay, their leader managed to stab Frodo with a Morgul Blade. This did not kill him, but the tip of the blade broke off and started burrowing its way towards Frodo's heart. And the moment it made contact, Aragorn knew that it would turn Frodo into a wraith, much like the Nine themselves. Knowing only the healing magic of Elves could help Frodo now, Aragorn had hurried the Hobbits onwards.

Eventually, Gandalf was able to escape from the tower of Orthanc by instructing a moth to guide his old friend Gwaihir, the Lord of Middle Earth's giant race of Eagles to come to Isengard and bear him away from the tower and towards Rivendell, where he knew the Hobbits would now be heading with Aragorn's guidance.

Frodo's saving grace had come in the form of Arwen, an Elf and Daughter of Elrond and also Aragorn's love, for the two had promised themselves to each other many years ago. Arwen had quickly taken Frodo on her horse, Asfaloth, and rode hard for Rivendell. It was not long before they were pursued by the Nine, but thanks to Asfaloth's incredible reflexes and Arwen's skills as a rider, they had been able to cross the river that bordered Rivendell. So close to their prize, the Nazgûl had pursued them across, but the powers of the Elves caused the river to rise up in a mighty torrent, killing the Nazgûl's horses and sweeping the wraiths away.

Through the healing skills of Arwen's father, Lord Elrond, the Morgul Blade poison was removed from Frodo's body and he slowly began to heal. Frodo was convinced that his job in bearing the Ring was now done, as he had managed to keep it out of the hands of Sauron's servant until it reached the safe haven of Rivendell.

However, Elrond and Gandalf were both adamant that this was not the case, for even without the Ring, Sauron's strength was growing and things were far worse thanks to the treachery of Saruman, for now Saruman was breeding an army of his own in the caverns of Isengard. Elrond knew that the Elves would not have the strength to keep both Sauron and Saruman at bay when they came for the Ring, as Sauron knew full well that the Ring was currently in Rivendell. And so, a Council was called, summoning Elves, Dwarves and Men from all corners of Middle Earth together to decide how they were going to combat Sauron.

There was a lot of arguing about what was to be done. Some believed that they could utilise the Ring's power against Sauron, while others stated that they couldn't possibly hope to use it and that it would corrupt those who tried. Most adamant among those who claimed the former was Boromir, son of the current Steward of Gondor. However, Elrond and Gandalf stated that the only thing to do would be to destroy the Ring completely, for doing that would destroy Sauron as well and break his evil rule over the land.

However, thanks to the magic that had been put into the Ring's creation, there was only one way to destroy it – by throwing into the boiling lava of Mount Doom where it had been forged in the first place, and such a feat would require entering Mordor, the realm of Sauron, itself. Arguments immediately broke out over this idea and who should take possession of the Ring and, in the chaos, Frodo stepped up and took responsibility of the Ring once again, claiming that he would be the one to take it to Mordor and destroy it once and for all.

With the Ring-bearer chosen, he now needed his companions. It was agreed that a smaller company would have a far better chance than a large army, for there was a likelihood that they could slip into Mordor unnoticed and reach Mount Doom without Sauron being aware of their presence and being able to combat them. Eight companions were chosen for Frodo. Three of them were the Hobbits he had travelled with from the start – Sam, Merry and Pippin, who refused to stay behind if their friend was going into danger. Gandalf the Wizard was selected to lead the group and Aragorn readily offered his assistance as well.

And they were not the only ones. Boromir of Gondor also agreed to take on the task despite his objections from earlier. And finally, two more stepped forward to represent their own races. One of these was Legolas Greenleaf, an Elf Prince of Mirkwood. And the other was Gimli, son of Glóin of the Dwarves of Erebor. Elrond insisted that all the races would have to resolve their differences and unite against Sauron, and so he dubbed the group of nine, the Fellowship of the Ring.

* * *

The Fellowship set out from Rivendell shortly after they were formed, Frodo carrying his burden once again. The group travelled down the western side of the Misty Mountains for many days and there were clearly tensions between the members. Legolas and Gimli held little trust for one another due to the antagonistic relationship that had long existed between Elf and Dwarf, and Boromir was initially not very fond of Aragorn, since Aragorn's position as King of Gondor would usurp his father's position as its Steward should he choose to take it.

Nevertheless, the group held to their purpose, making towards the Gap of Rohan so they could head east to Mordor. However, they soon abandoned this idea of a close encounter with a flock of large crows known as the Crébain, who were used as spies of Saruman. Gandalf knew then that the enemy would know of their presence if they continued on their current course, so they then tried to go over the mountain range directly and scale the mountain of Caradhras.

However, the Crébain had still managed to spot them and had immediately informed Saruman of their location. Saruman had called forth his magic to summon a powerful storm that swept up the snow around the Fellowship and for lightning to strike the mountaintop and threaten to bury them in powerful avalanches, forcing the Fellowship to turn back once again.

There was debate about how they should proceed next, but Gimli made the suggestion going under the mountains by passing through the Mines of Moria, and old Dwarven civilisation that had been abandoned many hundreds of years ago, but also a place which Gimli's cousin Balin had recently gone to in order to retake it and re-populate it.

Seeing little alternative, the group had struck out for the West Entrance to the Mines and, after finally getting it open, they were left with little choice but to go through it, for as they entered they were viciously attacked by the Watcher in the Water, a huge squid-like Kraken that resided in the lake next to the entrance. Though all of them escaped with their lives, the Watcher brought down the walls around the door and trapped them inside the mines.

Right from the start as they travelled they realised that all had not gone well with Balin's attempt to retake the Mines. Everywhere they went they found the skeletons of dead Dwarves filled with goblin arrows, much to Gimli's grief. During their journey, they attempted to keep as quiet as possible to avoid alerting the Goblins to their presence. However, they had now picked up a tagalong. Gollum had been released from Barad-dûr some time ago and had been brought to the Mines by the influence of the Ring and now he was following the Fellowship from a distance. Gandalf and Frodo were both aware of his presence, but until he showed himself to them properly there was little they could do about it.

On the final leg of the journey through Moria and they still had not encountered any Goblins. However, Gimli suddenly came across the tomb of his cousin Balin, and was overcome with grief, leading them to stop and learn of the fate of the Dwarves who had accompanied him. None of them remained alive.

During the stop, Pippin had accidentally knocked a Dwarven skeleton down a deep well, causing it to fall into the bowels of the Earth with an enormous series of crashing noises that suddenly alerted the Goblins to their presence. They had converged on the tomb instantly and the Fellowship had valiantly fought them off, as well as the large Cave Troll they had brought with them. The Troll nearly claimed the lives of many of the Fellowship and even stabbed Frodo with an enormous spear, with a blow that would have killed him had Frodo not been wearing a special vest made of the super-hard metal, Mithril. The troll was slain by a well-aimed shot to the roof of its mouth by Legolas and Fellowship hurried towards the West Gate, pursued by the vast Goblin hordes.

But, when the Fellowship were surrounded and all seemed lost… something worse happened. That something caused the Goblins to flee and allow them to continue their run, but now the Fellowship had a far more dangerous pursuer. The Dwarves of the past had been forced to evacuate Moria in the first place when they had delved too deep in search for mithril and had ended up disturbing an ancient evil, an old servant of Morgoth and another fallen Maiar – a Balrog. The Balrog took on the form of a huge shadowy Demon covered in flames, wings stretching out behind it, horns curving out the side of its head and towards its fanged mouth and it hefted a huge flaming sword and whip. Once there had been many Balrogs working under Morgoth's command, but most of them had died in the final conflict against him. This Balrog was the only member of its race still living that the Free People were aware of.

The Fellowship fled, pursued by the Balrog, until they reached a huge chasm which could only be crossed by the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. The Fellowship quickly dashed across, but Gandalf stopped and turned halfway across to block the Balrog's way and prevent him from chasing after the Fellowship. He was able to deflect the massive flaming sword with his forcefield and he brought his staff slamming down onto the bridge as the Balrog charged out onto it, the shockwave splitting the bridge in half and causing the half with the heavy Balrog to collapse, sending it crashing down into the deep chasm below it and into the darkness below.

But, as Gandalf turned to rejoin the Fellowship, the falling Balrog lashed up with its fiery whip and caught his ankles, pulling the Wizard off the bridge and into the chasm after him. The horrified Fellowship were forced to flee without him before the Goblins came after them once more, and they exited the Mines with their leader gone and with only eight members remaining.

Gandalf's loss had hit all the members of the Fellowship hard, especially Frodo and Aragorn, who had been closest to him. Nevertheless, Aragorn had known that they did not have the time to mourn and had to reach safety by nightfall when the goblins would pursue them out of Moria. He took leadership and had guided the Fellowship south to the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, meeting with the Elves who resided under its canopy.

Though the Elves were reluctant to allow Gimli the Dwarf and Frodo the Ringbearer further in, they eventually relented allowed them to pass into the community of Caras Galadhon, where the Fellowship met with Lord Celeborn, and Galadriel, the Lady of Light, as well as one of the bearers of the three Elven Rings.

But Saruman had been busy in the fortress of Isengard, breeding an army of orcs crossed with goblin men to produce a new breed of powerful evil – the Uruk-Hai. Knowing the Fellowship would soon be passing south, he sent a large group of those Uruks east to track them down, find the Ring and bring it back to him.

The Fellowship was able to stay in the woods for a long time, protected from the threats of darkness by the power of the Elves. As they rested and recovered from their traumas, Galadriel had allowed Frodo to look into her Mirror, which showed Frodo many visions about what would happen should the Fellowship fail in their task of destroying the Ring. Frodo attempted to pass the Ring to Galadriel, but Galadriel could not take it for the same reason that Gandalf could not – she would become a terrible force under the Ring's influence.

And so, Galadriel imparted her wisdom to Frodo to give him some sound advice, before the Fellowship finally departed from Lothlórien. Galadriel gave a gift to each member of the Fellowship, including three stands of her own hair to Gimli, who had viewed Galadriel as the fairest thing he had ever encountered, which went a long way to closing the rift that had existed between Gimli and Legolas. And the Fellowship had set off in Elven boats down the river Anduin to head south towards Mordor. As ever they were still being shadowed by Gollum, but the twisted creature was still keeping his distance, visible only for brief instances out of the corners of the eyes of even Legolas.

* * *

And that was where the Fellowship were now as the Sun beat down on Middle Earth from high above. The flowing sound of water was a gentle, constant melody as Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir smoothly applied their paddles to the water to guide their three little boats down the long, winding waterway that was the Anduin. The liquid flowed around them as their boats seemed to slide across the surface with the utmost ease. Mighty cliffs rose up from the river on one side, white and bleak in the light of the sun, while on the other side sat a forest of thick trees, casting shadows across the ground.

The area seemed to be peaceful, and there was little talk among the eight members of the Fellowship, each of them contemplating the things which Galadriel had said to them before they left the Golden Wood.

Legolas had been thrilled to receive a new bow from the Lady and, though he would much prefer to avoid conflict, there was a small part of him that could not wait to try it out. His companion in the boat, Gimli, could not seem to get the image of Galadriel out of his hands and was convinced that he would never again look upon something as fair as she had been… not even all the jewels in the world combined could have been Galadriel's equal. Every now and again, he brought out the little phial containing three of Galadriel's hairs just to look at them. The hairs seemed to shine, even in the light of the sun, as if they had a radiance all of their own.

In the middle boat sat Boromir, Merry and Pippin. The two small hobbits were also thinking on Galadriel's words. Compared to the mighty feats of the other members of the Fellowship, the two of them had done comparatively little to aid to group. Yes, they had killed a few goblins and even jumped on the back of the troll that had attacked Frodo, but that was about it. Poor Pippin had been the one to accidentally bring the goblins down on them in Moria, and now believed that if that had not happened, the Balrog would have never found them either. By that logic, the death of Gandalf was on his hands alone. Yet the Lady of Light had counselled both of them and assured them that every one of them had a part to play and that they would, eventually find their courage. But both Merry and Pippin wondered how long it would be until that came true.

Galadriel had spoken to Boromir about the fall of his beloved country, Gondor, assuring him that there was still hope left even though Boromir seemed to have given it up. Boromir bit his lip as he ploughed his paddle through the water again. He couldn't help but wonder if she had been wrong. Their quest now seemed hopeless and they were just soldiering on for a cause that would ultimately end in failure. Could there really be hope left for the world of men, or were Galadriel's words just empty comfort?

Boromir looked up towards the first boat, in which sat Aragorn, Frodo and Sam. He could see the back of Frodo's head from the angle the boats were at and, once again, he felt that tight sensation in his chest. That feeling he got whenever he looked at Frodo, and the image of the object hanging around his neck flashed into his head. An intense feeling of jealousy which he was desperately trying to shove back down, only for it to re-surface stronger than before the next time he saw Frodo.

What was going on inside him?

Aragorn was also lost in his own thoughts as he steered the boat around another bend. He had not one, but two major problems which Galadriel had spoken to him about. He was destined to by the King of Gondor, a fate he had never wanted to have and a power he had never wanted to wield. But Galadriel had insisted that the Men of the West would, soon, need him. But for what? Aragorn was fully determined to go with Frodo into Mordor and protect him from anything that tried to intercept him. And he still did not want the duties of a King. He merely wanted to stay in the north… with Arwen.

And there was the other problem.

Arwen's people, the Elves, were diminishing, slowly vanishing from Middle Earth. The vast majority of those that remained were heading west to the Grey Havens, where they would be able to pass across the sea and to the Undying Lands, leaving Middle Earth forever, for many of them had given up hope of Middle Earth being saved. Arwen was expected to do the same, for to stay would mean certain death for her, and not just because of Sauron. For her to truly be with Aragorn as both of them wished, she would have to give up the gift of the Eldar – the gift of immortality.

And while Arwen seemed to be perfectly willing to do this, Aragorn was not so sure he was willing to let her. Relationships between Elf and Man had existed in the past, and it had never ended well for either of them. Aragorn had not left Arwen in Rivendell in the best of fashions, insisting that she would have a better life if she were to go to Valinor with the rest of her people. The look in Arwen's eyes had been near heart-breaking and now Aragorn had no idea what had become of her. He glanced down at the jewel hanging around his neck, a gift from Arwen called the Evenstar which represented Arwen's very life-source. It glowed faintly as it hung there as it always had, so Aragorn at least knew that she was alive. But as to what she was doing with herself… he had no clue.

Was she staying faithfully in Rivendell despite the assurances of himself and Elrond that it would better for her to leave? Or was she making preparations to depart? Had she already gone? Who could say?

In front of Aragorn was Sam. Sam had problems of his own, and they were currently a lot more local than Aragorn's. Sam was worried – intensely worried about Frodo. Frodo was his best friend, his true friend, and Sam was determined to be loyal to him and help him in any way that he could on his way to Mordor. But, while Sam had known Frodo for many years before the Quest began, he was starting to notice changes in his dear friend.

His personality was still pretty much the same, although Frodo was noticeably less cheerful than he had been when they started the journey. Then again, they all were. But Sam had been keeping a close eye on Frodo so he could help look after him, and he had noticed that Frodo wasn't eating or sleeping properly and was becoming more withdrawn and reclusive than before.

Sam bit his lip. He wanted to help, but he didn't really know how. But he had made a promise to Gandalf when they had left Frodo's house of Bag End in the Shire. "Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee," Gandalf had said.

And Sam had promised that he would always stick by Frodo's side through thick and thin. And he fully intended to keep that promise.

As for Frodo himself… well, he had many things on his mind. But perhaps the most notable of these at the moment was the advice that Galadriel had given him about the journey ahead. The advice on how he was meant to proceed. And he was afraid. Very afraid. But he knew that Galadriel was right and he had to take that path.

He just needed to find the place to do it. And it had to be soon.

And so the Fellowship travelled silently on down the river, unaware of the Uruk-Hai closing in on their location and being ever-followed at a distance by Gollum.

* * *

Many leagues behind the Fellowship, back inside the Golden Wood, Galadriel opened her eyes. The golden-haired elf shone with a radiance that seemed to pale everything else around her, even the Mallorn Trees. She wore a long, elegant pure white silken gown and a circlet of gold round her head to indicate her noble heritage. Her face was practically sculpted to perfection and her eyes, like deep blue pools, seemed to see through everything around her, into the very souls of those she looked upon and indeed, through much more.

Galadriel turned around and walked, slow and barefoot, across the moss-covered ground of her forest. She was one of the most powerful single beings in all of Middle Earth, and she could sense the changes in the world around her as they happened. The future as it stood was likely to be very dark no matter what actions were taken, but there was a pale light before her. A tiny sliver of light – the possibility of success and the destruction of Sauron. There was hope left, even though it was difficult to see.

But Galadriel had suddenly sensed something else. Something different… something… new, even to her, and she had been among one of the first Elves ever to walk Middle Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago. And it was strong, so close, so near. But, for the first time in over a millennia, she didn't have any idea what she was dealing with.

After a minute or two, she eventually reached the top of a flight of wooden stairs and slowly, elegantly, stepped down it and into a large basin in the earth. In the middle of this basin was a large plinth and on the plinth, what appeared to be a large, silver bowl and an even larger silver, swan-like cup. Gently picking up the cup, she placed it until a small trickle of water seeping down the sides of one of the walls to fill it up and then poured that water into the bowl.

This was the Mirror that she had allowed Frodo to look into and as she placed the cup down, she stepped closer to the plinth and peered into the water. She was aware of a presence – another white-robed figure stepping down the stairs in front of her and she knew who it was, but for the moment her intense gaze was held on the water beneath her as her reflection vanished away and was replaced by… other images.

The second white-robed figure stopped at the base of the stairs and waited patiently for Galadriel to finish observing. The High Elf's eyes actually widened slightly at whatever she was seeing. The Mirror could show many things – past, present and future alike, but for something to surprise Galadriel enough for her eyebrows to rise was a rare event indeed.

Galadriel stared at the images cycling before her for over two minutes before she finally looked up, her eyes meeting those of the other robed figure standing in front of her.

"What did you see?" the other figure asked in a male voice.

Galadriel didn't answer for a moment, but her thin lips curved upwards slightly at the sides in a subtle and yet still radiant smile. A genuine smile at that. And then her lips parted and she said just one word:-

"Hope."

And in the basin, moments before the water's surface began to reflect Galadriel's face again, there was the fleeting image of a strange creature – red in colour and lizard-like in appearance, with jagged jaws and large projections sticking out the back its head which took on the shape of a large red V. And then it was gone, and the Mirror displayed only what an ordinary Mirror would display.

* * *

And, in a place far away from Middle Earth… in a place called the Digital World…

"Help! Help me! Somebody please help me!" a small, grey tadpole-like creature that went by the name of Otamamon screamed as he fled, diving forwards just as a large harpoon slammed through the space where he had been and punctured the wall behind him and pushed himself into a roll as another lanced into the floor next to him. Everything was chaos all around him, as the sea-side village was put under a vicious assault from its invaders.

A mere five minutes ago and the Digimon community of this village who lived by the sea had lived in peace. But then, the invaders had come from the sea in a large ship, and now, everything was madness and anarchy as the villagers fled for their lives.

The Otamamon fled through the streets, pursued by the Divermon who had been throwing harpoons at him. A nearby Swanmon was doing her best to fight off a group of Hookmon, but the smaller Digimon had her pinned up against the wall and were viciously stabbing at her with the hooks they had for hands, avoiding her attempts to knock them back with her wings as they forced her back against the wall. A group of Toucanmon were tackled by a large Depthmon and thrown to the ground, the Depthmon growling triumphantly as it grabbed both of them by the necks and began to strangle the life out of them.

Three Crabmon and a small Muchomon were desperately trying to protect a bunch of tiny Chapmon, the small duck-like baby Digimon whimpering in fear as the older Digimon bravely tried to fend of the snickering Sagomon that was standing over them, toying with them as it wielded its staff with expert precision to fling the Crabmon aside one by one. A large Coelamon hurried tried to step in and lead the Chapmon to safety, but an explosion of water signalled the arrival of a powerful Gesomon fountaining out of the sea and slamming down an enormous tentacle to block their way, slamming them across the street with one massive blow.

Meanwhile, a small group of Betamon were huddled together in fear, all hope having left their bodies as they were surrounded by a blazing inferno. Another group of Hookmon had set fire to the several of the buildings throughout the village, and were merely laughing as they heard the panicked screams of the Betamon inside, looking desperately for a way out where there was none.

And there was more chaos everywhere that you looked. Two Bukamon fled in terror as they were pursued by a small pack of vicious looking Gizamon. A little Syakomon had sealed itself in its shell, which was now being beaten another Depthmon and was slowly being prized open so that the Depthmon could get at the fragile creature inside. And a bunch of ridiculously small Pichimon were dodging frantically to avoid the swinging, clawed appendages of a large Scorpiomon.

All of these creatures looked very different, but all were the same species – Digimon, creatures composed out of computer data but with hearts and minds and wills of their own. They resided in the Digital World, which was normally a place of peace, but as of the moment, this particular village was going through hell under the attack of the pirates that had landed on its shore.

The leader of these pirates was a humanoid Digimon named CaptainHookmon, who had a large pirate's hat and cape as well as a grappling-hook like anchor attached to one hand and a large gun in his other, and he was currently in the middle of a one-on-one fight against the village's leader, a young female Digimon by the name of Ranamon, who was also humanoid but had a more frog-like appearance due to her green skin, hip and head fins and her blue swimming outfit which including large, bulbous gloves and head-set.

And it was quite plain to see that CaptainHookmon had Ranamon outmatched.

Ranamon crashed into the beach and skidded through the sand several feet, flat on her back and teeth gritted. CaptainHookmon laughed as she tried to push herself back to her feet, clearly showing the signs of fatigue already. "You might as well give up, girlie," he sniggered. "It's quite plain to see that I got you beat, don't you think?"

"Never," Ranamon spat. "I… I won't give up to a tyrannical pirate such as yourself. I can't… I can't turn my back on my fellow villagers! **DRAININ' RAIN!"** She spread her arms and caused a large raincloud to appear right over CaptainHookmon's head and attempt to pour out rain that would drain away his energy on contact down on him. But CaptainHookmon fired darted out of the way and fired several shots from his long gun to disperse the cloud before lashing out at Ranamon with the hook on his other hand. Ranamon ducked and it went slicing overhead, so CaptainHookmon span around to slash down at her, his three-pronged hook thudding into the sand when Ranamon desperately tried to dodge again.

CaptainHookmon smirked and swung after her. Ranamon just managed to grab the handle of the hook as the more powerful Digimon forced her down towards the ground, pinning her beneath his heavier body.

"Can't turn your back, huh?" CaptainHookmon sneered. "Spouting the motto of the Digimon King at me is not going to do you any favours here, missy." He smirked and added, "You know, now that I think about it, my crew and I haven't taken a pretty maiden like yourself prisoner for quite some time now. And I believe that that is one of the things in the job description of being a pirate, right?"

Ranamon's eyes shot open in horror at the prospect and she lashed up to hit CaptainHookmon in the nose. As he reared upwards, she quickly cried, **"WHIPPIN' WAVES!"** as she scrambled to her feet. A large whirlpool appeared in mid-air in front of her and promptly grew larger, and Ranamon prepared to turn the pointed tip towards him like a drill and hurl it at him.

"**LEG REVOLVER!"** CaptainHookmon sneered. And, before Ranamon knew what was happening, a large section of his lower left leg shifted and flicked upwards, revealing it to be a _gun_!

He fired.

Ranamon gasped as the bullet slammed into her stomach and the breath was thrown from her body as her body itself was knocked backwards. Choking and gasping, Ranamon looked down at the bullet wound in her belly which was slowly growing as her data began to peel away.

"Too bad," CaptainHookmon sneered as he stepped over to her and stood over her. "Would have been nice to have a cute little damsel like you on board our ship. Goodbye." He raised his hook into the air to finished the job and Ranamon screwed her eyes shut, hearing the slicing noise of the hook lashing down through the air.

There was a clang of metal on metal and cry of shock from CaptainHookmon. Ranamon, surprised that she was still alive, opened her eyes. She blinked in amazement through the haze of pain as she beheld a tall woman Digimon with long green hair, a helmet shaped like a snake-skull, a right arm that actually _was_ a giant snake, and a massive sword in her hand that had blocked CaptainHookmon's hook standing over the top of her.

A Mervamon.

"That's mean," Mervamon smirked. "Picking on a lady when she's down." She promptly through CaptainHookmon away with a heave of her sword and sprang after him, her snake arm lashing out ahead of her to clobber him in the stomach and send him flying backwards with a cry of shock. As she leapt away, a small, pink bunny-like Digimon leapt from her shoulder and landed next to the wounded Ranamon.

"Don't worry," the Cutemon said in a high pitched voice. "I'll take care of it. **SKILLFUL HEAL!"**

Ranamon stared in astonishment as it held its hands over her wound and the hands began to emit a green aura that slowly began to close the wound and steady Ranamon's data. Ranamon blinked. "Mervamon?" she muttered. "And Cutemon? Then… then that means… Xros Heart?"

"Yep," Cutemon nodded. "Look," he nodded towards the village. Ranamon turned to look, and her heart almost burst with joy as the invading pirates were viciously fallen upon from all angles.

The Hookmon who were still trying to pin the Swanmon to the wall heard a shout of, "Come on, brothers! Let's get 'em! **METEOR SQUALL!**" before they looked up and saw a large swarm of Pickmon suddenly pelting down towards them and smashing into them to knock them back and away from their target. The Starmon who led them was of the small, golden variety, and he leapt down after the Pickmon and bashed one of the Hookmon full in the face with his five-pointed body.

The two Divermon who were chasing the Otamamon around pulled around the corner after their target and came to a screeching stop when they saw the Otamamon was now huddled between the front legs of a large orange wolf-like Digimon with a drill on his forehead and the end of his tail, who was glaring with hard, unrelenting eyes.

"You have three seconds," Dorulumon growled. "One…" The Divermon scarpered.

The other group of Hookmon who were stood outside the burning building suddenly screeched when the fiery wall exploded in front of them and the wooden, flaming planks showered down on them. As they dodged, they saw a large, blue beetle-like machine emerging from the hole it had just busted down and carrying the assorted Betamon on its back. "N-gah," Ballistamon said in a gravelly voice. "I think that it's time that you lot learned a real lesson." He deposited the Betamon on the ground and threw himself forward with a yell of **"HORN BREAKER!"**

He smashed straight into the Hookmon and sent them cannoning backwards into the fleeing Divermon, deleting several of them on the spot and knocking the other silly. Dorulumon, who had been bounding after the Divermon pulled to a halt and roared, **"DORULU TORNADO!"** spinning his tail-drill rapidly and sending a huge whirlwind out of it that scooped up the Hookmon and Divermon and tossed them high into the air.

The Sagomon was bearing down on the Crabmon and the Muchomon that had been trying to stand up to it, lifting its staff into the air to bring it down on top of them and finish them off. But something took hold of the staff from behind, startling him, and when Sagomon looked around, it was to see a tall demon-like humanoid with huge wings standing there with a hand of his staff.

"Naughty naughty," Beelzemon shook his head, then kicked Sagomon backwards and raised his huge cannon arm to fire a single green blast that slammed into the startled Sagomon and obliterated him on the spot.

The Depthmon who had been strangling the Toucanmon looked up to see its colleagues under attack. Fear flashed through it and it quickly released its victims and turned to flee before they noticed him. But something shot downwards from the sky and the Depthmon yelped when it was scooped into the air by a large, aeroplane-like Digimon with shining yellow armour.

"I think you chose the wrong career path," Sparrowmon pointed out conversationally as she spiralled up into the air, releasing the screaming Depthmon and flipped around to shout, **"WING EDGE!"** The blades on the side of her wings sharpened visibly and she shot forwards, slicing through the falling Depthmon and finishing him off long before he hit the ground.

The Gesomon was a little too absorbed with attacking the Coelamon and beating it's hard shell into the sand with huge thumps of its giant claw-tentacles to hear the thundering roar until it was too late. It heard it at the last second and looked up to see a huge, blue-skinned dinosaur hurtling down the streets moments before it struck him full on with colossal form, teeth sinking into the Gesomon's tentacle and tearing it off.

"Let's see if you can handle something like this," Greymon snarled. **"MEGA FLAME!"** Huge purplish flames exuded from his open jaws and shot straight into the Gesomon's open mouth. The Gesomon squealed in pain, and Greymon stepped back to whip around and slam his tail into the large, white squid to finish the job.

In moments, it was almost all over. The Scorpiomon became aware of a shadow over the top of it but before it could look up to see what it was, huge metal talons snapped shut around his front appendages and scooped him into the air, tossing him high into the sky with a mighty flick. The huge, blue-armoured bird responsible, MailBirdramon, promptly fired a huge blast out of the socket on his chest armour which smashed into the Scorpiomon and tore its data particles apart.

The Gizamon chasing the screaming Bukamon suddenly had a bunch of PawnChessmon drop in front of them with raised shields, causing them to crash into the force-field they were generating and go rolling backwards with headaches. As they scrambled up, and launched themselves forwards again, a tall Knightmon leapt over the heads of the PawnChessmon and, with a loud yell, slashed his mighty sword through all five of them at once and cut them in two.

And the second Depthmon who was still trying to open the Syakomon shell heard a cocking sound in front of him and looked up to find himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun. The Revolmon the gun was part of didn't bother saying anything, he just fired and Depthmon was dead before it realised what was going on.

And though there were countless other small instances going on through the city, a large swarm of Gaossmon had also appeared and were thundering throughout the streets taking out any enemy Digimon who stood in their path with chomps of their razor-sharp jaws.

CaptainHookmon ducked under a blow from Mervamon's sword and cried, "Quick! Return to the ship! Now!"

But, as he turned to do just that, there was a loud booming noise and a huge horde of missiles suddenly streaked upwards into the air from behind his large vessel, leaving behind giant smoke trails and arcing downwards to point straight towards the ship and streak down to do their job. CaptainHookmon dived backwards as his ship was eradicated instantly, a colossal explosion ripping it apart entirely and turning the bulk, the mast, the wheel and everything to splinters and small sections of plank immediately, which scattered across the village and showered over the top of CaptainHookmon, almost burying him in the debris of his own ship.

When he looked up, there was nothing but a large mound of wreckage left, and beyond he could see the large form of a Deckerdramon bearing down towards him across the surface.

And, perched on the Deckerdramon's head…

"The Digimon King!" CaptainHookmon gasped.

The King smirked. "Glad to hear that you know who I am, CaptainHookmon," he declared. He stood no more than three feet tall, but CaptainHookmon knew that his stature meant nothing – his body was absolutely filled with power. That body was mostly red except for his white belly, hands and feet. He was draconic in shape, with long black fingers on his hands and claws on his feet. His jaw was jagged and his nose had a pointed horn on the tip, while his head had two large, pointed prongs sticking out the back that gave the top of his head a V-shape. There was a large, three-pronged microphone held in one hand, a silver breastplate covering his chest and a long yellow scarf wrapped around his neck, the ends of which streamed out behind him in the wind.

"And do you also know my name?" the Digimon King asked.

"Sh…Shoutmon," CaptainHookmon confirmed.

"That's right," Shoutmon nodded, his eyes narrowing. "I am Shoutmon! Make sure you carve that name deep into your heart, CaptainHookmon, because it's the last one that you're going to hear for a long time!"

"No!" CaptainHookmon cried as he scrambled to his feet, but Shoutmon had already prepared his attack, lifting his hand which now held a large fireball and yelling:-

"**ROCK SOUL!"**

He hurled the attack with deadly precision and it thudded straight into CaptainHookmon's chest. The pirate yelled as he was thrown backwards, his data crippled and about to disperse, when he was then grabbed in the jaws of Mervamon's snake-arm and swallowed whole.

"And that's all she wrote," Mervamon chuckled as she lowered her arm.

"Your Majesty," Ranamon cried as she scrambled to her feet, thanking Cutemon for healing her. "You came. You came to help us!"

"Of course we did," Shoutmon chuckled. "We all did. After all, we are Xros Heart. And no matter what trouble there is in the Digital World, neither I nor the rest of my team will ever turn our backs on those in need. And if there's one thing in this world you can count on, you can count on that!"

* * *

There you have it. Another introductory chapter but with a small amount of action at the end there. I hope that this chapter has left everybody anticipating more, because there sure as heck is going to be a lot more coming in this story. Now, with both the first chapters out of the way, its time to move on to the second ones. I really hope that you enjoy the rides from both the stories, and I hope that even people who are not fans of Digimon Xros Wars will enjoy this story if you happen to be reading it.

* * *

Next time…

A recap of the events of Digimon Xros Wars and what happened afterwards, and a meeting of the various members of Xros Heart and Blue Flare in Shoutmon's castle back home to celebrate the anniversary of another year since the defeat of Bagramon. But one particular member of the party isn't feeling so jovial.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 2 : A Goal Fulfilled**


	2. A Goal Fulfilled

This chapter ended up being SO MUCH LONGER than I was expecting it to be. The summary of the events of Xros Wars that I was intending for the first quarter or so just kept getting longer and longer and longer and longer and longer. There was too much information, so I extended the bit after the summary so that not practically the WHOLE chapter was just one big summary. Anyway, to those of you who already know the story of Xros Wars, I hope that you enjoy the part of this chapter that isn't just retelling the bits you already know. Hehehe. Moving on.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 2:- A Goal Fulfilled**

* * *

The Digital World was doing very well for itself in present times. The Digimon who resided there were living in a time that was, for the most part, full of peace and prosperity. They could live in their villages in relative safety and in the knowledge that the few bad Digimon who still remained within the entire Digital World were no match for the Digimon King and his team of companions – the Xros Heart United Army.

It was a time where young Digimon could play in the streets and have fun, where the larger Digimon didn't have to skulk around to make sure that they stayed alive, where any Digimon with a good heart did not go without friends all around them. The Digimon were happy in their world – their strange world filled with incredible and complex environments all rolled into one. Such environments including things like rolling meadows, volcanic plains and huge, towering forests, but also the more obscure locations like oceans of liquid gold, mountains composed almost entirely of giant discs and enormous futuristic style cities.

No matter where the Digimon lived, they now led lives that were filled with happiness, joy and contentment, rather than fear, pain and suffering that many of them had been accustomed to before the Digimon King, Shoutmon, took his throne.

For times in the Digital World had not always been as it was now. In the not-too-distant past, the majority of the Digital World's populace had known nothing _but_ pain and fear and suffering. The Digital World had almost literally become a living hell for months and months on end, where the good and the weak Digimon suffered instead of the bad and the strong. In fact, the Digital World had been a warzone for close to five years _before_ it had become a hell.

And it was all thanks to the Bagra Army.

* * *

The Bagra Army had been a gigantic force for evil in the Digital World, founded by the incredibly powerful Demon Lord Digimon known as Bagramon - a fallen Digimon who desired the complete destruction of the Digital World and the Digimon he considered to be imperfect in order to build a completely new world that he _did_ consider perfect and that he could rule over with a bony fist. Bagramon had started heavily recruiting for his ever-rising army and had place three Head Officers in charge of his forces as they swept across the Digital World to try and take it by force.

Initially most of the Digimon had believed that the Bagra Army was not much of a threat and would soon be dealt with, for within the Digital World there was a group of powerful Legendary Warriors who fought for justice and were determined to protect the inhabitants of the Digital World. Led by Omnimon, they had fought back against the Bagra Army and repulsed them at every turn, pushing them further and further back until it seemed that they would win for sure.

But then, Bagramon had learned of the existence of another world – the Human World. It was a world which lay alongside the Digital World without knowing of its existence and was beginning to learn how to harness the digital power of the Digimon's world.

As the technology of the humans grew exponentially and they began to harness more and more digital power, the distance between both worlds shrank until the mere energy of the Human World warped the Digital World's core – the Code Crown. The Code Crown was the conduit that contained the code for the Digital World's entire structure – a semi-sentient object that could be used to reformat the entire Digital World to the wishes of whoever possessed it.

The Legendary Warriors were the possessors of the Code Crown when Bagramon learned of the Human World, and Bagramon had been striving to get it so he could finally take control.

But then, the Human World's power had warped the Code Crown so much that it shattered into one-hundred-and-eight pieces, which caused the Digital World to also shatter into an equal number of pieces each separated from all the others by a Digital Barrier and would later be referred to as Zones.

The Legendary Warriors had tried with all their strength to stop the cataclysm that shattered the Digital World, but the explosion had been too much for all of them and their bodies had been destroyed. But, as its last act as a full Code Crown before it shattered, the Code Crown had turned their data into the DigiMemories – small artefacts that would enable their user to harness the power of the Legendary Warrior in question in the future. The DigiMemories had been scattered across various Zones, while their leader – Omnimon – fell into the Human World. Two others, WarGreymon and Examon, fell into the Digital Barrier itself.

And thus the Zones were created. Each Zone contained one fragment of the original Code Crown, and most Digimon could not cross the Digital Barriers around them, leaving them stuck in the Zone in which they had landed in the first place.

But, with the Legendary Warriors gone, there was nobody left to stand in the way of Bagramon and thanks to his control over dimensions, he _was_ able to cross the Digital Barrier and could transport others with him. He implanted that ability into his Three Head Officers – Tactimon, Lilithmon and Blastmon, and had them set out into the Zones to take them over one by one and find all the fragments of the Code Crown, for he knew that the original Code Crown would be reformed if they were all brought together again, and he could begin his final plan to rewrite existence.

Zones fell to the Bagra Army one after the other as the Three Head Officers wrought their havoc, murdering and slaughtering countless innocent Digimon as they passed through, collecting the Code Crown fragments wherever they found them. Each Code Crown fragment did the same job as the original Code Crown for the Zone they had fallen into, and every Zone that the Bagra Army captured fell completely under the thumb of evil.

And it was into this world that Shoutmon was being raised. Shoutmon was a Digimon that was full of passion and heart and soul, even though his temper had a tendency to be rather short. He was very rowdy and he liked little better than a good fight, but he was also a true friend to anyone who became acquainted with him and his heart of justice spurred him on with one burning desire – to protect those friends and indeed all innocent Digimon who were suffering from the Bagra Army.

But there was little that Shoutmon could do about it. He had a lot of power in his small body but he still couldn't cross the Digital Barrier. Few Digimon could but digital information still could so Shoutmon and his friends, who lived in the Green Zone, were constantly hearing stories about other Zones that were being attacked and taken over. And all of them knew that it was only a matter of time before the Green Zone was targeted.

And so Shoutmon, the village elder who had been raising him known as Jijimon, and Shoutmon's best friends – Starmon, the Pickmon and Lillymon, all waited for the time they that they knew would come – the time where they too were attacked by the Bagra Army.

About a year into the Bagra Army's invasion, an unexpected visitor appeared in the Green Zone – a strange mechanical Digimon that was clearly very weak. Shoutmon had immediately rushed to help him, but when the mechanical Digimon had recovered slightly, it went insane and started wildly trying to attack him.

Still, Shoutmon could tell he was suffering, so he faced off him long enough to wait until the stranger collapsed again and then Shoutmon began delving into his circuitry and trying to figure out how to fix this newcomer. Eventually he had succeeded and the blue, beetle-like machine was as happy as anything and was filled with gratitude for Shoutmon. But he couldn't remember anything about life before he arrived in the Green Zone thanks to Shoutmon's tampering, so Shoutmon had named him Ballistamon and the two of them had fast become best friends and partners in battle.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Digital World, the Bagra Army was still raging strong. The strongest of the Three Head Officers was Tactimon, and his vicious assaults on the Zones led to them crumbling before his near flawless military discipline and tactics no matter what attempts at resistance they tried to put up against him. And by his side, leading Tactimon's assaults, was his most trusted lieutenant – Dorulumon.

Dorulumon was loyal to Tactimon and had destroyed over a dozen Zones under his command, but overtime he grew concerned with how little the Bagra Army seemed to care about its own troops. Quite often he would notice Tactimon sacrificing the odd soldier, but then Tactimon began to do things such as send in a troop of soldiers to distract the enemy and then open fire from afar to destroy both the enemy troops _and_ his own troops on the front line. The prospect horrified Dorulumon and he watched it happen several times before he finally snapped and attempted to intervene and save a squadron of BlueMeramon that Tactimon had sent out to die.

Despite his efforts, only one BlueMeramon made it out alive and in the process of Dorulumon warning them of the attack, the resisting Digimon had also overheard him and retreated, costing Tactimon the victory. Tactimon was beyond furious, as this was the first time he had failed throughout his whole campaign, but Dorulumon no longer cared. He abandoned the Bagra Army and became a loner, wandering through the Zones and trying to stay away from all other Digimon.

This did not entirely work out for him though, for one time he was disturbed by a bunch of Goblimon picking on a young Cutemon and decided to teach the Goblimon a lesson before wandering off. But the Cutemon followed him in gratitude and refused to leave him alone. Dorulumon was very reluctant to put up with his little tagalong, but when he learned that the Cutemon was on a mission to find his missing parents, who had both been captured by the Bagra Army, Dorulumon had been overwhelmed by a feeling of pity and guilt and so he allowed the Cutemon to accompany him on his travels and agreed to help him find his parents.

* * *

Meanwhile, as the Bagra Army continued their campaign, there was another dark force at work. Bagramon's younger brother, SkullKnightmon, was growing discontent with how far ahead of him in power his older brother was. He made several attempts to get stronger and compete with Bagramon, but he never even got close. But Bagramon still kept him around knowing he would be a useful commanding officer for him when he ruled the Digital World.

But SkullKnightmon did not want to be an officer. He wanted to be the ruler and so he set out to try and find a way of toppling his mighty brother and growing even stronger. And then was when he discovered the existence of the Darkness Loader, an ancient artefact lying dormant within a sphere of darkness that possessed the ability to harness the powers of Darkness and force two or more Digimon to fuse together in a process called the DigiXros. SkullKnightmon immediately saw potential in the idea and plotted a way to use it to overthrow his brother.

During his investigations, he discovered that the humans were the only beings who could produce the power of the DigiXros, thanks to the ever-expanding Digital power their technology was using granting them human DigiPower – the catalyst needed to spark the merging of a Digimon's data. And so he needed to factor that into his calculations too.

SkullKnightmon created a device known as the Xros Loader which was modelled after the Darkness Loader and would harness a human's DigiPower to Xros Digimon together, but could not utilise the powers of Darkness as well. He journeyed to the Human World with his partner, DeadlyAxemon, and found a human who would be susceptible to manipulation and therefore be able to work for his plans. This human was a young boy called Yuu Amano, who was far too kind for his own good and hated the prospect of people getting hurt and dying, so SkullKnightmon lured him in by feeding him lies about how the Digital World was a game world wherever everybody in it wasn't real and Yuu could play to his heart's content without harming anyone.

Yuu fell for the lies immediately, and SkullKnightmon assigned the Xros Loader to Yuu's DigiPower signature and allowed Yuu to DigiXros himself and DeadlyAxemon together to form DarkKnightmon. He then left to continue his preparations and promised to return for Yuu when he was ready.

Meanwhile, the Bagra Army was still storming across the Digital World. The powerful Warriors of the Goddess that lived in the Sand Zone were caught under a spell by a sub-ordinate of Lilithmon and forced to turn on each other until only one survived. That one was called Baalmon, who, in a panic, slaughtered all the rest of his fellow warriors before he could realise what he was doing. Then, consumed by grief and the prospect of revenge, he joined the Bagra Army and became its reaper, while his real intentions were to track down the one responsible for the tragedy of his fellow warriors.

When DarkKnightmon finally returned for Yuu in order to begin his preparations to reactivate the Darkness Loader and dragged him into the Digital World, Yuu's older sister Nene was also dragged in with them. But DarkKnightmon did not miss a beat and hid Yuu away from Nene while modifying Yuu's Xros Loader to function for Nene instead. He led Nene to believe that he had kidnapped Yuu instead of Yuu being a willing participant in his plans and threatened Nene that he would kill Yuu if she did not help him to collect the powers of Darkness from around the Digital World to help him revive the Darkness Loader.

It was all bluff, as DarkKnightmon still had big plans for Yuu when the Darkness Loader was finally activated, but a frightened Nene agreed immediately and they formed Team Twilight, setting out to carry out DarkKnightmon's plan.

But Bagramon had now learned of what DarkKnightmon had done, and he saw great potential in the idea of the DigiXros, so he had constructed a Xros Loader of his own and set out to find a human to use it. He wanted a human who wanted great strength and was full of great ambition, in order to become a great General in his Bagra Army when they'd finally taken over the Digital World. And that was how Kiriha Aonuma came to the Digital World. He was a boy who was determined to become strong no matter what the cost, so Bagramon had given him his Xros Loader and brought him to the Digital World.

However, Kiriha had gone renegade almost immediately, and when he learned of the existence of the Code Crowns, he too began to storm across the Digital World, opposing the Bagra Army and building his own army, which he called Blue Flare. He wanted to rewrite the Digital World into a place where only the strong were allowed to live as his cold father had rooted the belief that all weakness was evil within Kiriha's heart and that the weak did not deserve to exist at all.

And Kiriha was not the last of the Generals to be brought to the Digital World. Invisible to all, the spirit of Omnimon had been watching events and had managed to conjure up enough of his powers to create another Xros Loader. With his DigiMemory stuck in the Human World, he searched long and heart for a compassionate soul who would do anything to ensure that others did not get hurt and who could hear the melody of a dying Digimon. One who might oppose the Bagra Army and finally fix the broken Digital World once more as a place for good.

And then he found Taiki Kudou, a young boy who fit that exact description down to a T. For, back in the Digital World, the Green Zone had finally been invaded by an army under the command of Tactimon's subordinate, MadLeomon. During the defence, Shoutmon had boldly struck out to defend his fellow Digimon and he had paid dearly for it. Mortally wounded, Omnimon had used yet more of his power to drag his fluctuating form into the Human World, where Taiki had found him. Omnimon gave Taiki the Xros Loader, which stored Shoutmon inside it to heal him, and then Taiki had been dragged into the Digital World, along with two of his friends – Akari Hinomoto and Zenjirou Tsurugi.

* * *

And thus the team of Xros Heart had been formed, with Taiki as its General and Shoutmon as his main partner. Taiki believed firmly that the secret of unlocking the true power of a DigiXros was for all its participants to join their hearts together as one as well as their bodies to bring out their true potential, hence the name of their army. Shoutmon and Ballistamon were the first two to DigiXros with one another, and Starmon and the Pickmon were not far behind. But even with the DigiXros, MadLeomon's forces were strong enough to challenge the small army.

Fortunately, Dorulumon and Cutemon were passing through the Green Zone at that time and when Cutemon spotted Taiki's companion, Akari, who was clearly upset at having been dragged away from her world, he went over to try and cheer her up, and then later ran to help when MadLeomon's army attacked again. Dorulumon dashed in to protect his charge and, when MadLeomon attempted to self-destruct and wipe everything out instead of letting the enemy win, Dorulumon became the next to DigiXros with Shoutmon and Ballistamon to make Shoutmon X3 and finish him off. But Dorulumon took Cutemon and left at the earliest opportunity.

And so Xros Heart began their journey to find and take all the Code Crowns for themselves, in order to build a Digital World of peace that Shoutmon would one day rule as its King, determined as he was to bring about a new rule where all the Digimon did not have to live in fear any longer. Before they even left the Green Zone, they encountered Kiriha – who had allied himself with a powerful Greymon and MailBirdramon by this point and who wanted to initially make Taiki his subordinate – and Nene – who had befriended three Monitamon and become firm friends with a Sparrowmon, who remained a mystery to them at first but who explained to them what the Code Crown was and how to use the Xros Loader to travel between Zones.

Xros Heart travelled from Zone to Zone, taking on the Bagra Army who were already invading and doing their best to defeat them, save the locals and obtain the Code Crown all at once. Through the Island Zone and the Magma Zone they travelled, during which time they ran into Dorulumon and Cutemon twice more. Dorulumon was still reluctant to join the team, wishing to continue his life on the run, but after an encounter with Tactimon that revealed the truth about his origins to Xros Heart and the fact that Xros Heart still wanted him around (plus, the fact that Cutemon was befriending them all left, right and centre) Dorulumon eventually relented and joined Xros Heart in their quest.

As they travelled, Xros Heart grew in leaps and bounds in many different ways. Not only did they add several new members to their force, such as a Knightmon and a group of PawnChessmon, along with their Princess Bastemon from the Lake Zone, and a treasure-hunting Revolmon from the Sand Zone, but the bonds between its members grew stronger by the day. Human to human, human to Digimon and Digimon to Digimon, everybody seemed to grow closer to everybody else as they fought together and strove for victory against all the odds, DigiXrosing with one another several times to defeat incredibly powerful enemies one by one. Even Dorulumon began to open up more to the group.

They ran into Kiriha several more times and Blue Flare was also noticeably growing more powerful, adding a Cyberdramon and a horde of Gaossmon to its ranks.

Upon reaching the Sand Zone, they were attacked by the Bagra Army's reaper, Baalmon, who had been instructed by Lilithmon to kill Taiki. However, the Goddess of the realm had revealed herself to Taiki and smiled down upon him, something which she had never done to Baalmon through all his time trying to become one of her warriors and Baalmon chose instead to help Taiki. And finally, Baalmon learned the truth about how Lilithmon had been to one to cause his fellow warriors to turn on each other and confronted her, only to be hit by her poison nails. Taiki hurriedly began to utilise the power of the Goddess to heal him while Xros Heart desperately kept the Bagra Army at bay.

On seeing the actions of the team, Baalmon finally realised what he had been missing – he had been convinced that power alone was all that was needed to make a warrior, but he now knew he also needed compassion – the kind of compassion that spurs you to protect your friends. When all hope seemed lost for Xros Heart, Baalmon sprang forth and took a powerful blow that would have killed its members.

As he lay dying, the Goddess finally smiled on him and gave him strength, bringing him back with a new form and a new name – Beelzemon, warrior of the Goddess. Through the combined efforts of Beelzemon and Xros Heart, the Bagra Army was quickly defeated, and Beelzemon became Taiki's personal guardian, joining Xros Heart and staying in the shadows but always ready to jump in when he was needed.

Shortly after this, they encountered Nene again and, for the first time, DarkKnightmon. Though Xros Heart could not figure out why Nene was helping such a clearly evil Digimon as DarkKnightmon, that did not stop them from jumping in to save her when she was taken prisoner by a rampaging Lucemon. Xros Heart and Nene's companion Sparrowmon made several attempts to stop Lucemon alone but failed each time.

Sparrowmon initially refused to believe Taiki when he said that he wanted to help, but when she realised that he meant what he said and Xros Heart saved Sparrowmon's life and rescued Nene in the process, Sparrowmon joined her heart with theirs to form Shoutmon X5, a combination of Shoutmon, Ballistamon, Dorulumon, Starmon and the Pickmons and Sparrowmon herself. Combined together, they defeated Lucemon. But since Nene was still being threatened by DarkKnightmon, she and Sparrowmon left Xros Heart behind quickly.

It was not long after that that Deckerdramon joined the fray. He was the guardian deity of love and both the Bagra Army and DarkKnightmon were trying to break through into his temple and recruit him for their army, as he was incredibly powerful. However, during a titanic battle between DarkKnightmon and the combined forces of Xros Heart and Blue Flare (during which time both opposing armies finally learned about Nene's missing brother), Deckerdramon inexplicably joined Kiriha, claiming that he had the strongest love of all and surprising everyone with that declaration.

Nene and DarkKnightmon retreated again, and both Xros Heart and Blue Flare pursued her into the Dust Zone. DarkKnightmon was there to meet them, having gathered almost enough powers of Darkness to revive the Darkness Loader at last. He attempted to extract some from Taiki, only to find that he had none within him. Kiriha, on the other hand, had a bunch of it and was able to give DarkKnightmon the last bit that he needed, and so the Darkness Loader was reborn. Taiki was able to rescue an exhausted Nene with the help of Sparrowmon, but DarkKnightmon no longer had any need of her.

It took all the power of Xros Heart and Blue Flare to repel the power the Darkness Loader gave to DarkKnightmon after he fused with two of his more powerful subordinates, but they still managed to succeed. Kiriha left promptly, but Nene collapsed from exhaustion, so her Monitamon companions suggested taking her to their home to have her healed. Along the way, they met Wisemon, who was a seeker of knowledge that lived in the Digital Barrier but joined Xros Heart after seeing the passion in Taiki's heart.

When they arrived at the Ninja Zone, they discovered that it too had been invaded by the Bagra Army, so Nene decided, for the first time to work in tandem fully with Xros Heart now that DarkKnightmon had cast her aside. During the battle, Nene finally shrugged off her inner darkness the closer she drew to the team, and her black Xros Loader changed to a lavender colour. Taiki and the others promised to help her find her brother, and Nene joined their ranks with a will.

Xros Heart continued their Code Crown campaign, being forced to save all the Digimon of a collapsing Zone after Kiriha and the Bagra Army destroyed too much in their fighting and during which time Kiriha's Digimon questioned Shoutmon's strength. More determined than ever to become the right person to be King, Shoutmon trained hard with Ballistamon and Beelzemon to become stronger and it paid off, for Xros Heart was suddenly attacked by Blastmon – one of the Three Head Officers. With Shoutmon's renewed strength and resolve, and a new DigiXros in the form of Shoutmon X5B which added in Beelzemon to Shoutmon X5, Blastmon was defeated and all his Code Crowns passed to Xros Heart.

To the shock of everyone, the next Zone they passed into was the one where Cutemon's parents were imprisoned, far underneath the ground. But the Bagra Army was attempting to utilise their healing powers to grant a powerful Brakedramon the ability to regenerate, stopping Xros Heart in its tracks. Cutemon was desperate to save his parents, but they told him that helping his friends was more important. Eventually Cutemon relented and strove to heal Shoutmon X5 while Taiki rescued his parents and without the ability to regenerate, Brakedramon was quickly defeated too. After being given the blessing by his parents, Cutemon continued to travel with Xros Heart all the same to give them his healing strength.

Eventually, when Xros Heart claimed the Code Crown of the Sword Zone all the Code Crown fragments now belonged to owners and the Digital World began to reform, reviving all of the enemies that Xros Heart had beaten as good Digimon, including the Grademon they had just had to defeat in the Sword Zone. But Tactimon was quick to trap Blue Flare and Xros Heart together and engage them in a battle with his incredibly powerful sword, defeating both armies with ease and stealing all the Code Crowns from each army for Bagramon.

But when he spoke of how Bagramon was going to reform the Digital World where the weak did not exist and how any Digimon who had been defeated was scum, Taiki and his team had been filled with a drive to succeed and stood up, even though Tactimon's last attack had been pinning them to the ground. As Tactimon attempted to kill Taiki for real, Grademon jumped in front of the attack and took it, and then sacrificed his own life to destroy the tower sealing off the Sword Zone and allowing Beelzemon to finally get in. Shoutmon X5B roared into life and, with the help of Greymon, defeated Tactimon and threw him away.

But before they could take back the Code Crowns, Bagramon himself directly intervened, grabbing the Code Crowns and sending Taiki, Akari, Zenjirou and Shoutmon to the Human World, where only about an hour or so had passed despite the long period of time they had spent in the Digital World.

That Digital World was promptly reformatted by Bagramon with the complete Code Crown into Seven Kingdoms and the Great Demon Palace, placing one extremely powerful warlord in each of the countries and referring to them as the Seven Death Generals. DarkKnightmon re-joined his brother and back the Admiral of Emperor Bagramon's army and the Death Generals began to torture and abuse Digimon to collect negative energy from them and send it to the Demon Palace, where Bagramon began to place it into the Code Crown for the final stage of his plan.

Taiki and Shoutmon knew that their friends in the Digital World would be in trouble, so they hurriedly searched for a way to return, culminating in them locating Omnimon's DigiMemory. Omnimon agreed to send them back once again, but stated that his friends, Akari and Zenjirou, could not come along this time, for he did not have enough power to send them all. They were greatly saddened by this fact, but they gave one final departing gift to Xros Heart when Tactimon suddenly appeared in the Human World and attacked them, seizing Akari and Zenjirou while Shoutmon attempted to fight him alone.

Determined to prove their usefulness, the intensity of Akari's courage and Zenjirou's friendship gave a new power to Taiki's Xros Loader, allowing Shoutmon to Super Digivolve into the larger and more powerful form of OmegaShoutmon and, after a colossal battle, Tactimon was finally destroyed for good. Armed with their new power, Taiki and Shoutmon set off back to the Digital World to find their friends and defeat the Seven Warlords.

* * *

In the first country, ruled by Dorbickmon the Fire-fury, they were quickly found by Lillymon, who updated them on the situation and they rescued a fleeing Dracomon from Dorbickmon's minions. It wasn't long before they ran into Kiriha and Nene again, and even Kiriha was on the verge of giving up thanks to the months he had spent while Taiki had been gone trying and failing to defeat Dorbickmon. Kiriha marvelled at the Super Digivolution that Shoutmon now possessed, but even that was not enough to defeat Dorbickmon when he caught them off guard.

Eventually though, they were able to rescue the other members of Xros Heart that Dorbickmon had captured, and Dracomon taught Kiriha the pride of dragons, which meant that in Kiriha's last stand against Dorbickmon, his MetalGreymon gained the power to Super Digivolve as well, into ZekeGreymon. Dorbickmon was eliminating.

Their next opponent was NeoVamdemon of the Moon, a Vampire Digimon that had gained the power of immortality after ingesting a large number of innocent Lopmon. After confronting him, NeoVamdemon startled everyone by absorbing MetalGreymon into his own body as well, prompting to flee and search out a legendary White Lopmon that was supposed to be the only one who could defeat NeoVamdemon. Led by one local Lopmon who had managed to escape, they headed down into the underground temple, only to find it empty.

NeoVamdemon appeared again, and Shoutmon, who was determined to save MetalGreymon, allowed himself to be absorbed, as did Lopmon. In a final bid to defeat NeoVamdemon, all of the Lopmon within his body combined their strength and became the White Lopmon, granting Shoutmon and MetalGreymon Super Digivolution once again. When even that wasn't enough to break out of NeoVamdemon's body, the Lopmon sacrificed themselves to give them another power – the DoubleXros. This allowed OmegaShoutmon and ZekeGreymon to merge into Shoutmon DX and, with NeoVamdemon's invincibility gone, they could finally destroy him.

They battled their way through each of the Countries, encountering different problems each time. Zamielmon the Wood Spirit was extracting Digi-Honey from the locals of his land to produce high-quality negative energy. They also encountered Mervamon here, who was furiously trying to stop Zamielmon and her little brother, Ignitemon, who was working for the Bagra Army out of fear. She and Nene bonded quickly through the fact that both had missing brothers, but shortly after they defeated Zamielmon, Yuu suddenly appeared.

Yuu still firmly believed that everything in the Digital World wasn't real, so much so that he even ordered his bodyguard – Tuwarmon – to kill Nene. Though they were able to stop Yuu and DarkKnightmon, Yuu fled before they could stop him, and Mervamon joined Nene to help her bring Yuu to his senses once more.

In the fourth country, Splashmon the Water-Tiger attempted to fool Xros Heart and Blue Flare to mistrusting one another through the use an animated human-doll, water spirits his body created and capturing Dorulumon and then taking his form to attack those who thought he was their friend. But Taiki was not taken in for an instant and played along, for Dorulumon had mentioned his mistrust of the human doll right at the start. That meant that while Splashmon thought he was fooling them all, they were able to find and free Dorulumon and join together to defeat him by evaporating his body entirely.

In the fifth country, Olegmon the Golden Pirate was a very unusual Death General, as, unlike the others, he valued his friends. He attempted a similar tactic of turning friends on each other, but he quite literally took control of several of their members through the use of a chant that resonated on a special scale and brainwashed the Digimon, including Shoutmon, Greymon and Sparrowmon, and later Dorulumon and Cyberdramon. But, for some reason, Ballistamon was not affected and he was able to break the others out of Olegmon's control with his own sound wave. But then, they finally learned the truth about Ballistamon's past – he had been _built_ by Olegmon to be a super weapon and Olegmon restored his systems to their original settings and he attacked his former friends.

But it did not last long, for Shoutmon forced himself to DigiXros with his best friend and reached for his heart, trying to get him to choose the path of a good guy once again. Such was the bond between the two of them that Ballistamon overrode his own programming and reverted back to the good side, using his newly acquired Ultimate Speaker to destroy Olegmon with a recording of his own chant. Olegmon seemed to find this funny and, as he died, he wished Taiki well.

Then, things got a whole lot worse when it was time to face off against Gravimon the Earth-God. Kiriha attempted to take charge of a full-scale assault, facing off against Gravimon's immense army by using Taiki and Nene's forces as bait and almost wiping them out with the attacks of his own Digimon as collateral damage before shooting forward to take on Gravimon himself. But Gravimon somehow managed to avoid dying after being ripped apart and defeated Kiriha in an instant, capturing him while Taiki and Nene made their escape.

Gravimon was able to sense the darkness inside Kiriha and taunted him with visions of his past, and his strict father ordering him to become stronger until eventually Kiriha snapped, and Gravimon was able to convince him to go and attempt to defeat Taiki. Kiriha, now more obsessed with strength than ever, did just that and ordered ZekeGreymon to attack Taiki. Taiki hurriedly countered with OmegaShoutmon and the two proved to be evenly matched, defeating one another in their explosive battle and causing them both to collapse.

But, as Kiriha attempted to send out his other forces to attack, Deckerdramon suddenly intervened and ordered Kiriha to stop, telling him that he was about to totally abandon the strong love that had prompted Deckerdramon to join him in the first place. Kiriha, on the brink of madness, refused to listen to his own Digimon, and as his mind was filled with images of the past, he was convinced that Deckerdramon was trying to betray him and ordered his other forces to attack. Deckerdramon refused to fight back as Cyberdramon and Golemon beat him to the brink of deletion.

When Taiki and Nene confronted Kiriha with the terrible thing he had just done and Cutemon set about healing Deckerdramon, Deckerdramon himself decided to show everyone present images of Kiriha's past so they could see for themselves his strong father and his weak-willed mother, and how when both of them had died in an accident, his father's last instruction to Kiriha was for him to get stronger. How his father's men had betrayed Kiriha after his father's death and taken his house and all his assets. Deckerdramon and Taiki insisted to Kiriha that he must not abandon love, for that had been what his father was trying to tell him not to do in the first place.

Without warning, Gravimon had attacked with an enormous Gravity bomb and the already wounded Deckerdramon quickly rolled forwards to shield everyone beneath his body as the intense pressure pushed down on him. In the ensuing chaos, Shoutmon, Dracomon and MetalGreymon insisted that all of Kiriha's strength was coming from those who fought for him, and Kiriha finally realised what his father had been trying to say – that he needed to find his true friends for those with true friends were the ones with true friends. With that revelation, Kiriha finally opened his heart to Taiki and Nene.

But the revelation came too late for Deckerdramon, as Gravimon's Gravity Bomb crushed his body beyond repair. Kiriha was overcome with horror at the sight of his dying Digimon, knowing that this was his fault, but Deckerdramon said with his dying breath that he held no regrets as he had helped Kiriha to find his love and now that he had done so, a brand new DigiXros would rise. Thanking Kiriha for everything, Deckerdramon's data dispersed and, moments later; Taiki, Kiriha and Nene were filled with the determination to avenge him together and the Great Xros was born.

OmegaShoutmon, ZekeGreymon, Ballistamon, Dorulumon, Starmon and the Pickmons and Sparrowmon all fused together to become Shoutmon X7, who was able to best Gravimon with ease… except for the fact that Gravimon possessed the ability to regenerate and could not be killed unless his core was destroyed as well. Gravimon moved that core out of his own body and implanted it straight into Taiki, which meant that the only way for Kiriha to defeat him and avenge Deckerdramon would be to kill Taiki, which is what Gravimon had wanted him to do in the first place.

But Kiriha, finally accepting his friendship, refused and surrendered. Gravimon was disappointed and threw an attack at Kiriha anyway, prompting Taiki to jump right in front of the attack in the knowledge that if he died, so would Gravimon. Gravimon panicked and forced his core out of Taiki's body, whereupon Mervamon knocked both him and Kiriha out of the way and Shoutmon X7 and Kiriha worked together to destroy the core and finally kill Gravimon.

But things only got more complicated for the final Death General – Apollomon of the Sun. For Apollomon was actually a good guy, who had long been masquerading as a villain, as he knew he did not have the power to defeat Bagramon and had been waiting for heroes who would be able to help him to victory. But, just as the Xros Heart United Army decided to trust him, Yuu showed up again and revealed that Apollomon had an evil program inside him called Whispered, that could take over his body at will and that Apollomon was not even aware of. Whispered promptly took over Apollomon and cast the heroes down into the Digital World's hell, for Taiki could not bring himself to attack a good guy like Apollomon and it cost them dearly.

Still convinced that everything around him was a game, Yuu set up a battle zone on Hell's Field, with a scenario that would only allow the victorious side to escape from the area if either Yuu or Taiki died. Determined to make Yuu see sense, Kiriha devised their strategy, coming up with an idea that none of them would expect – they would swap Digimon. The bonds between them were so strong that they were now capable of using the DigiXros for each other's teams.

Nene took command of Shoutmon X5 to attack DarkKnightmon and stall for time while Mervamon and Beelzemon took on Lilithmon, the two of them bonding more closely with one another during the battle. Kiriha provided the distraction by pretending to charge forwards on Cyberdramon to the enemy castle and attack Yuu, only to be stopped by and engaged by Whispered. And as they distracted the enemy, Taiki snuck round on the back of MailBirdramon to reach the castle unblocked, DigiXrosing Greymon and MailBirdramon together to keep Tuwarmon occupied while he tried to appeal to Yuu.

Yuu was not so easily distracted though and engaged Taiki in a sword-fight, which put Taiki firmly on the defence for he, unlike Yuu, knew that if one of them died here then they really would be dead. Meanwhile, Whispered had returned to help Tuwarmon against MetalGreymon and was easily winning, while DarkKnightmon split into his two component parts and confronted Nene as SkullKnightmon while sending DeadlyAxemon back to the castle as well. But this proved to be a mistake, because Sparrowmon had unfused from Shoutmon X5 without him noticing and took him off guard, allowing Nene to re-DigiXros them and knock SkullKnightmon away. Meanwhile, Beelzemon finally managed to catch Lilithmon off guard and shot her through the stomach multiple times to mortally wound her, but was critically injured himself in the process.

Eventually though, Taiki managed to summon the guts to strike back and attacked Yuu's sword, breaking it and punching Yuu in the face, and finally succeeding in planting the seed of doubt inside him. Nene joined up with them and the two of them attempted to sway Yuu to come with them. But, in one last ditch attempt at denial, Yuu fused Tuwarmon with all the Digimon around him and the energy of Hell's Field and attacked viciously. Fortunately, Kiriha arrived just in time, and they formed Shoutmon X7 once more to defeat Tuwarmon and fatally injure him, though Tuwarmon still managed to escape with Yuu once again.

This left Apollomon Whispered as the only threat left in Hell's Field, but neither team could leave as both Taiki and Yuu were still alive. Only Apollomon could leave, which he promptly did, but not before forcing the dying Lilithmon and Blastmon to DigiXros together into a monstrous being that began to destroy everything else around it, including Hell's Field itself. It targeted Beelzemon specifically, who was not yet fully healed, and the heroes were hard-pressed to stop it.

After careful analysis, Wisemon was able to find a way of fooling the Hell's Field program into thinking Taiki had died when he, in fact, hadn't and they set to it immediately. Beelzemon and Mervamon distracted the Lilithmon creature, while Shoutmon X7 protected the conduit that Wisemon was attempting to modify. Eventually the task was done and the gate opened once more. Yuu and DarkKnightmon quickly made their escape through it and Shoutmon X7 smashed Lilithmon with a powerful attack before everyone rushed to make their getaway.

But, somehow, Lilithmon was still alive and gaining power rapidly, so, as a final act against his nemesis, Beelzemon turned back, knowing that his body had now been crippled beyond repair anyway. Beelzemon finally managed to avenge the warriors that Lilithmon had killed and destroyed her, sacrificing himself in the process.

The loss of Beelzemon hit Taiki hard and he now knew that he had no choice but to face Apollomon and destroy him in order to progress on and fight Bagramon. And so, that was exactly what they did. Shoutmon X7 took the stage once again and, despite a ridiculously immense attack from Whispered, they were able to prevail. As a last act to aid the heroes, the real Apollomon was able to take control of one arm and halt his evil counterpart from obliterating the heroes while they were weakened and give X7 just enough time to kill the Last Death General and proceed onwards to the Great Demon Palace.

Simultaneously, Tuwarmon's smaller form of Damemon died in Yuu's hands. With his final words, Damemon revealed to Yuu that Taiki, Nene and Kiriha had been telling him the truth all along, and, as he passed away, Yuu was finally hit by the full realisation of what he had done, and was filled with grief.

And yet, before the Xros Heart United Army could confront Bagramon, DarkKnightmon still had one final surprise for them. For by this time, the Code Crown had been entirely filled with negative energy and had been transformed into the Dark Stone. Using the power of the Dark Stone and the Revival Circuit that they had been planning to use since the beginning, DarkKnightmon resurrected all seven of the Death Generals at once, except that he only restored their bodies, leaving them mindless puppets to do his bidding while their souls were stuck in Prison Land. DigiXrosing all the Death Generals into the monstrous GrandGeneramon proved far too much even for X7, and DarkKnightmon used the power of the Dark Stone to extract the souls of Shoutmon, Ballistamon and Dorulumon and send them to Prison Land as well.

In a desperate bid to get his friends back, Taiki allowed DarkKnightmon to take his own soul to Prison Land to try and find a way back for them, much as Shoutmon had jumped into NeoVamdemon to save MetalGreymon. He found the others sure enough, but he also found the Seven Death Generals as well, who attacked immediately. And yet, this was the world of souls, and Shoutmon, Ballistamon and Dorulumon's souls were so fired up and filled with power that even Shoutmon X3 proved to be a tough match for the Death Generals.

Even so, Taiki attempted to appeal to Whispered, believing Apollomon to still be inside him somewhere, and also to Olegmon, as he had wished Taiki well and valued his friends just as Taiki did. As the Death Generals beat Taiki and his friends back and quarrelled amongst themselves, Olegmon realised just how much the other Death Generals just didn't care about each other while Xros Heart's bonds were raging strong, and he promptly switched sides, helping X3 to knock Whispered for a loop. Whispered, just for a second, realised the importance of friendship, and Apollomon immediately took that opportunity to escape from Whispered's body and destroy his evil counterpart. Apollomon sent Xros Heart and Olegmon back to their bodies, and Olegmon destroyed the Revival Circuit, though both of them were killed once again in the process. X7 was able to defeat the weakened GrandGeneramon and Xros Heart progressed on once more.

Now that Yuu finally realised what he had been doing, DarkKnightmon took him prisoner so that he could still use his power to DigiXros things before presenting the Dark Stone to Bagramon, who absorbed it into his chest. Bagramon then faced off against Xros Heart and easily defeated X7, before revealing his plans for D5 – the Dimension Delete and Deadly Destruction Day. With the power of the Dark Stone, he was able to reach out and grasp the Human World with one hand and begin his conquest, turning all its inhabitants into stone while simultaneously causing destruction in the Digital World which caused Taiki, Mervamon, Knightmon and several other Xros Heart members to fall beneath the ground.

While Taiki and the others attempted to find and rescue Yuu, Kiriha and Nene desperately tried to stop Bagramon on their own. OmegaShoutmon and ZekeGreymon threw all their strength at Bagramon in one go, and Bagramon lifted up a hand to block... and that was when DarkKnightmon made his move. He had been waiting for this moment all his life, when both of Bagramon's powerful hands were occupied with his plan and he acted instantly, stabbing his brother in the back with his spear and then revealing, at last, the real reason why he had started using the DigiXros – to absorb Bagramon and his immense power into himself, which he then promptly did to become DarknessBagramon.

Meanwhile, down below, Taiki rescued Yuu and hurried him back towards the surface, thus preventing DarknessBagramon from absorbing any of the other Digimon without Yuu's DigiPower. The heroes quickly formed X7 again and attacked and, to his horror, DarkKnightmon realised that he was still weaker than his brother was alone. For Bagramon's soul was still very much alive and quickly asserted control. Despite all his planning, DarkKnightmon lost, and his soul was destroyed while Bagramon was free to take control of their combined body, defeating X7 once more. But Shoutmon – brave, reckless, passionate Shoutmon, refused to give up, yelling at Bagramon for not being a real king and attacked once more, determined to stop DarknessBagramon once and for all.

Shoutmon managed to shoot up and plunge his fist into DarknessBagramon's chest to grasp the Dark Stone… but, moments later, his body was destroyed. All seemed lost for Xros Heart, especially when DarknessBagramon sent all of them into the rift between dimensions while he descended on the Human World. The heroes floated seemingly aimlessly through dead space… where they were promptly rescued by Akari and Zenjirou, who had survived being turned to stone thanks to the DigiMemories of WarGreymon and Examon saving them at the last second. With all the DigiMemories gathered together once again, they were able to punch back into the Human World to take on DarknessBagramon one last time. Moments before, Taiki finally convinced Yuu that all was not lost, and the Darkness Loader in Yuu's hand shifted into a yellow Xros Loader, so they were all ready to fight for the last time.

As Kiriha, Nene and Yuu took on the Bagra Army with their own forces and those of Taiki's, Taiki himself used the power of DigiMemories to catapult himself, Akari and Cutemon into the Dark Stone in an attempt to find the spirit of Shoutmon and resurrect him as the Dark Stone had once been the Code Crown and should have that power. But Bagramon was there to meet them, telling him that it was hopeless and raising his hand to kill Taiki at last.

But the Code Crown had other plans. It's last remnants recognised Taiki's valiant spirit and acknowledged him for it, expunging itself of the darkness and granting Taiki's wish, resurrecting Shoutmon, Beelzemon, Deckerdramon, Olegmon, Apollomon and Grademon once more and then taking the heroes out of the Dark Stone to face DarknessBagramon once more. With the power of the Code Crown now with them, the heroes pull of the Final Xros. This meant Shoutmon became the base of a DigiXros that involved every Digimon from the Xros Heart United Army, the resurrected bodies of all seventeen DigiMemories and _every other Digimon in existence!_ The combination of the whole Digital World against DarknessBagramon resulted in Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode and, in a swift and decisive battle, DarknessBagramon was… finally… destroyed.

And so the darkness of the Digital World finally came to an end, and the Digimon and Humans parted ways. Shoutmon and his team returned to the Digital World to restore order to things and, in the euphoria of Bagramon's defeat, all the Digimon unanimously agreed that they wanted Shoutmon – their saviour – to be their King. Shoutmon claimed that he could not have done it alone, and he rest of Xros Heart and the humans who had fought with them were just as much to thank as he, but, at long last, he assumed the role he had long been striving for and began to do his duty to set the Digital World straight at last, as one complete world once again.

* * *

All of that had ended five years ago now, and Shoutmon had changed a lot since that time. He had grown both physically and mentally. He was taller now and the V shaped prongs on his head much longer than before. Knightmon had designed and constructed the breastplate that he now wore on his chest and the long yellow scarf that he also wore around his neck had been a gift from Princess Bastemon. She had told him that her father had worn it sometimes and it made Shoutmon look very regal and, in a strange way, it did.

Shoutmon often wondered how long it had been for Taiki and the others. The Human World and the Digital World ran on different timestreams so what had been five years for him could have been nothing more than a month for Taiki for all he knew.

The Digimon had loved their King with all their hearts and Shoutmon had set about to try and do his duty, insisting to the world that he would never turn his back on the suffering just as Taiki had not, and that if there were any problems that they could always come to him and he would do his utmost best to fix it.

The little village where Shoutmon had grown up in what had once been the Green Zone, known as the Village of Smiles, had no longer been right for Shoutmon. All the members of Xros Heart agreed that he needed a place of stronger fortitude than that, if only to act as a symbol of continued strength and reassurance to the Digimon people.

Because of this, Shoutmon used the Code Crown to construct himself a castle which _would_ show that strength and fortitude. A castle which he and most of his closest friends still lived in to this very day. It's design was based on a combination between the castle which they had used in Hell's Field and Bastemon's old palace from the Lake Zone, with tall spires filled with many bedrooms for its numerous occupants, enormous courtyards and a Great Hall that was practically the size of a football field just within the colossal main door.

The castle was surrounded by an enormous lake and the only way to get to it was with the enormous extending bridge that had been designed by Wisemon or to swim their way across. Inside, the walls were adorned with fine tapestries, many of which depicted the events which had taken place during the fight against the Bagra Army, and the enormous stone blocks that comprised the castle still seemed as full as if they had been freshly hewn from the ground even after five years.

On the outside the enormous walls rose up around the entire castle, adorned at the top with high ramparts, and dotted at various heights and lengths across the castle were numerous platforms where defenders might be able to stand and fire down on anyone that dared to attack them. Several giant statues like chess pieces rose high into the sky, almost as high as the tallest spires, and, of course, set in roughly the centre of the castle and near its height was the throne room.

Shoutmon had to admit, even though he had not become King for the sake of being King but to protect the innocent, there was no feeling that was quite the same as sitting in a throne that was designed for you. Large banners depicting the symbols of Xros Heart and Blue Flare adorned the walls. There were various other seats throughout the entire throne room, or platforms for the other members of Xros Heart to rest on, and just outside the door and the corridor which led to it there was a large slab of floor in the courtyard that could rise up like an elevator to transport larger Digimon up to see Shoutmon when they were too large for the stairs.

It was a castle designed to accommodate everyone that had fought for the freedom of the Digital World in some way or another, for most of Xros Heart still lived together. Ballistamon could almost always be found at Shoutmon's side, and he and Dorulumon had both been appointed as Shoutmon's chief advisors, taking into account Dorulumon's practicality and field experience as well as Ballistamon's unique insight and way of looking at situations in different ways to the others.

Near the top of the castle on the tallest tower of all was a flat top that had been designed for MailBirdramon to roost and also to allow his eagle-eye vision to spot incoming visitors from miles away. The giant metal bird had found it to his liking, and so had Sparrowmon, who often roosted up there with him. And in the centre of the main courtyard a tall pedestal similar to the one which Deckerdramon had sat on before he joined Kiriha's army.

Everyone else had their own rooms too and they varied greatly in design, from the large four-poster bed and other assorted finery that could be found in the room of Bastemon, to a simple barracks style room for Knightmon and the PawnChessmon, to nothing but four blank walls and no ceiling for Dorulumon, who liked to sleep under the stars but needed nothing else.

With the castle set and his team moved in, Shoutmon began his rule of prosperity. He had several deputies across the Digital World who fully supported him as King and reported any activity they spotted to him. Apollomon had reconstructed his tower some distance away from Shoutmon's castle to help keep an eye on the Digital World, while Olegmon the former pirate now patrolled the seas with his crew. Grademon had become a wandering warrior, seeking to lend a hand wherever he could.

And, of course, the Legendary Warriors that once been the DigiMemories had their own castle where they continued to guard the weak as they had always done, on the exact opposite spot of the Digital World to Shoutmon's own castle.

* * *

For a time, the Digital World had flourished without any sign of evil whatsoever. But, as we all know, evil can never be eliminated forever as long as there was such a thing as free will and so there had been several instances in the past few years where Xros Heart had had to step out of their castle and lend a hand. The most recent trip to deal with CaptainHookmon had been reported to them by Olegmon's first mate, Mermaimon.

After their resounding victory against CaptainHookmon, Shoutmon and the others had helped Ranamon and the rest of the villagers to restore order and fix some of the damage that had been caused by the pirates. Then, Shoutmon had reached up and firmly shaken Ranamon's hand, giving her a jagged smile and saying, "You did a good job back there against that CaptainHookmon. You're a strong fighter. But never forget, that if you need help again in the future then we'll come and be that help. Anytime. All you have to do is call."

"I'll be sure to remember it," Ranamon had nodded. "I cannot thank you enough for what you've done, Your Majesty."

"Hehe," Shoutmon chuckled. "People have been calling me that for five years and it still sounds odd to me. Shoutmon is all I need for a name."

"Alright then," Ranamon smiled. "Thank you… Shoutmon."

Shoutmon nodded and turned around. "Alright then guys, let's get back home. I believe that we'll have a feast waiting for us when we get back."

* * *

And indeed they did. Today was the anniversary of the day they had taken back their future with their own strength and destroyed Bagramon at last five years ago. The feast they had when they got back was quite extensive, and was filled with not only several truckloads worth of DigiNoir – Shoutmon's personal favourite gourmet food, but also with other delicious treats of all shapes and sizes from the human world, from simple fruit salads to towering chocolate cakes and other fine examples of pastry. It was quite clear to see that the pâtissiers, under the authority of Coronamon from the old Sweets Zone, had really outdone themselves this time.

The Great Hall was fully decked out with dancing Candlemon illuminating the place, and numerous banners and streamers hanging from the ceiling, including quite an amusing one that depicted a comic version of Bagramon being drowned in a cauldron by an equally comic depiction of OmegaShoutmon. There were also a load of Opossumon hanging from the ceiling from the balloons that their species held in their hands and occasionally letting one go to float about on its own.

After everything they had done, Shoutmon almost found it comic even now for the whole of Xros Heart to just sit around an enormous, square table and just eat and celebrate together. The days of the battle against the Bagra Army were long past them, yet they remained fresh within Shoutmon's mind even to this very day. Yet, looking around the room now, Shoutmon could see just how much had changed since those days many years ago. And how much had remained the same.

For a start, Dondokomon was currently dancing around in the middle of the table with the Candlemon and bashing himself in the head repeatedly… but since Dondokomon was effectively a walking drum with drumsticks for arms, this was pretty much normal for him. Still, it brought a whole new meaning to the term, 'head-banging.' He was clearly having a great time, alternating between trying to get people in the party mood with his catchy beat and dashing over to the nearest plate to shovel food into his mouth and then go back to dancing to his own rhythm.

Shoutmon chuckled. Dondokomon had been a member of the Village of Smiles and part of Xros Heart from day one, but the poor guy had done very little of note during his time amongst the party, mostly just hanging around and trying to cheer people on during battles. But he'd still been a part of the team and Shoutmon wouldn't have any member ignored, no matter how much or little they had contributed… for all of them had done their part in some way throughout the war. Even Dondokomon.

Scooping up another handful of DigiNoir and tossing it in his mouth, he took a moment to look over the rest of his various companions. He had absolutely no idea how Ballistamon ate and had never brought up the question, but Ballistamon had been with him through his greatest of hardships. When facing off against Olegmon when he had still been evil, the both of them had snapped the other out of Olegmon's control in the space of the same day. Ballistamon had broken through to Shoutmon when under Olegmon's spell, and Shoutmon had broken through to him when Olegmon had reset him to his original design of DarkVolumon.

Ballistamon was still with him now – Shoutmon's constant partner. They had fought in synchrony even before Taiki had arrived, as Ballistamon had taken to catapulting Shoutmon into the air so he could take out flying enemies. Shoutmon knew that they had been fated to become partners and he couldn't imagine a life without his big, blue, quiet friend by his side anymore.

On his other side was Dorulumon, who had long been a loner before he ran into Xros Heart and had been determined to remain one for as long as possible, even though he travelled around with Cutemon. Dorulumon had become almost as close to Shoutmon as Ballistamon. The three of them alone had been the ones to face off against the souls of the Seven Death Generals with Taiki and the bonds of friendship between them were intensely strong. Dorulumon had not even considered going back to his solitary existence after beating the Bagra Army he had once been part of.

Dorulumon had been a big help to Shoutmon in getting used to the role of King. After all, he might have been a loner but he was always full of sound advice and he seemed to command an air of quiet intensity that made everybody around him either relax or wet themselves depending on what side of a potential argument they were on. Shoutmon counted himself fortunate to have Dorulumon as his left-hand mon.

Sitting on the table next to Dorulumon was Cutemon, the one who had healed all their injuries on their quest. Shoutmon had not been sure whether Cutemon would want to return to his village with his parents at the end of the war, but Cutemon had been adamant that he not abandon the group. And so, both of Cutemon's parents were also present at the table and had been living with them ever since. They made, for lack of a better word, a very cute little family sitting together around a bowl of DigiNoir and conversing between themselves and with Dorulumon.

The other members of the Village of Smiles that had joined Shoutmon at the start were sitting there too. Starmon and the various Pickmon were dancing around the bowls as they usually did and shovelled as much food into their small mouths as their pointed appendages could hold at any one time. Starmon and the Pickmon might have been small, but when they combined their strength they were all miniature powerhouses and it was almost certain that without their assistance, Xros Heart would have failed, as they provided a bucketload of extra strength to any DigiXros they involved. Starmon had been dependable to his 'brothers' through and through all across the journey. And the Pickmon followed his every move so they had been as well.

Then there was Jijimon, the elderly geezer who had raised Shoutmon for as long as he could remember and had been the group's guide at the start of their journey, explaining things about the various Zones around them that had helped to defeat the Bagra Army. Things had changed when the Digital World had been reformatted, but Jijimon had remained all the same to provide help in any way that he could.

Also sitting nearby and laughing at the antics of the Starmon was Lillymon. Lillymon might have been living in Shoutmon's village, having also been a part of Shoutmon's life for as long as he could remember and his best childhood friend before Ballistamon showed up, but she had not gone with Xros Heart initially when they left the Green Zone. She was not a violent Digimon and had chosen to stay behind and help look after their homes, though she had been sad to see all the others leave.

But, as it turned out, it was a damn good thing that Lillymon had stayed behind, for while the other members of Xros Heart had been captured by the Bagra Army when Shoutmon and Taiki were in the Human World facing Tactimon, Lillymon had remained free and had been there to meet them almost as soon as they arrived back in the Digital World, just in time to grab Taiki and disguise him as a Digimon before he and Shoutmon could have been slaughtered by the powerful Dragon Digimon all around them – for without their friends and temporarily without Digivolution, Taiki would have been screwed if the Dragons had recognised who he was. After that, Lillymon had joined Xros Heart wholeheartedly and was still here to this very day.

Everywhere Shoutmon looked, more faces greeted him. The Gaossmon swarmed around the floor all around them and a couple of Bombmon were seated on the table at the other end of the hall, watched warily by anyone near them. In the corner was the towering form of a Golemon. All three of those Digimon groups had been a part of Kiriha's army of Blue Flare, but even though Shoutmon hadn't even spoken to any of them during their time fighting Bagramon, they too had stayed behind.

The same could be said for the towering form of Cyberdramon, who was standing in the corner with his spear clutched in one clawed hand. Cyberdramon barely ever ate or spoke or really did anything at all. He just stood there most of the time, like some kind of strange, silent sentinel. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if he was even alive when he didn't move an inch for days on end. But Shoutmon found his presence reassuring in a strange way. It was as if as long as Cyberdramon was around, no enemy would be able to take them without warning.

A bunch of Monitamon, six to be exact – three of them green and three of them red – were attempting to amuse one another nearby by juggling fireballs and other small attacks around and passing them to each other, and ChibiKamemon was sitting next to them to occasionally spurt water from his mouth and put out their projectiles, much to everyone's amusement. The Monitamon had been loyal to Nene and often the perfect spies for Xros Heart, because although they had TVs for heads, they could communicate to each other through them and they were skilled at remaining concealed.

ChibiKamemon, on the other hand, was a little turtle Digimon that had befriended Shoutmon early in their journey and had been determined to be strong like Shoutmon. He practically idolised the Digimon King, so it was small wonder that he was still here too.

The other larger members of Blue Flare were crowded around the door, where it would be easy for them to back out again when it was time to leave. Getting Deckerdramon to turn around even in a large space, could be awkward as hell, so his back was, quite literally do the doors so he could just role backwards. Deckerdramon had insisted on remaining with the group as well to help Shoutmon spread his burning passion and intense love throughout the entire Digital World in any way he could.

Greymon and MailBirdramon stood on either side of Deckerdramon. Neither of them had thought very much about Shoutmon when they had first met, but they had slowly been filled with an intense respect for Shoutmon, especially after he jumped into NeoVamdemon to save them both when they had been absorbed by the Vampire Death General. They were both as much a part of Shoutmon DX as Shoutmon himself and had since combined their hearts with him on many occasions. Both their Digimon types were natural wanderers, but when Shoutmon had asked them what they were going to do, Greymon had said,

"Are you kidding? We've fought just as hard as you to make sure that you rise to your throne like you told us you were going to, even though we didn't take you seriously at first. You aren't getting rid of us that easily."

Hovering next to MailBirdramon was Sparrowmon, and she was attempting to make MailBirdramon eat a large slab of chocolate cake while MailBirdramon was staring at her in complete bewilderment. Sparrowmon had been an integral part of Shoutmon X7 as well, and due to that fact and everything Shoutmon had done for her and Nene during the war, she had resolutely stayed behind as well. Her speed and reflexes in the air had been key in many battles and Shoutmon was glad to have her on board.

Curled up on a large throne of her own was Princess Bastemon, and she, unlike everyone else, was sound asleep. Bastemon was a bit of an enigma really, as her most notable contribution to Xros Heart was when she had _eaten_ the giant mouse Digimon that had been guarding the captive Yuu. But when Bagramon had been beaten, Shoutmon had assumed Bastemon would want to return to her own palace. But apparently not. Bastemon was as eager to remain with the team as anyone, though she spent most of her time asleep. Shoutmon had offered to rebuild her real castle but she was having none of it.

Hovering around the slumbering feline princess were, as ever, her Royal Guard in the form of Knightmon and the PawnChessmon. Each of them had fierce hearts filled with loyalty that had made them perfect members for Xros Heart and had helped to protect Taiki and the others on numerous occasions. With Shoutmon crowned King, Knightmon and his men's loyalty had extended to him too and they were ready to fight for him just as much as Bastemon.

It had taken considerable effort to drag him out of the library, but Wisemon was there too. As a seeker of knowledge, Shoutmon had assumed that he too would leave when everything was done, but Wisemon seemed quite content to remain behind and continue his studies from the comfort of the castle. Without Wisemon's knowledge, Xros Heart would have been screwed on many occasions, and Shoutmon now often went to him with questions whenever a particularly difficult problem arose. And, invariably, Wisemon could provide the answer.

Sitting not far from Shoutmon was little Dracomon, the Digimon who had, despite his lack of physical strength, stood up to the tyrannical Dorbickmon and proved an excellent help several times, as he was skilled at find the weak spots in various structures and objects. He had never had any intentions of leaving as he had supported Shoutmon's path to being King right from the start and was determined to see it through to the end.

Shoutmon had been most sure that Revolmon the treasure hunter would leave to continue his old career, and yet the little buccaneer was sitting with his feet on the table as he scarfed a large pie. He had almost no interest in returning to his roots and was more than content to remain and fight for Xros Heart. It seemed that, no matter which Digimon it was, the fierce bonds of the Generals had extended into the Digimon themselves, for no matter who they were, they were all still together.

A living example of this was Beelzemon, was reclined against the wall with his wings folded behind him. He had been Taiki's guardian after being restored by the Goddess, and now he had appointed himself as Shoutmon's as well. Not that Shoutmon minded, for Beelzemon was a true friend and real powerhouse, who could appear and disappear again with the twitch of a feather. And of course, it Beelzemon was still here then so was Mervamon, who had fallen in love with Beelzemon for his tough attitude and his devoted personality during the battle on Hell's Field. Beelzemon had been not been slow to reciprocate and Mervamon had been ecstatic beyond belief when Beelzemon was resurrected by the Code Crown.

Now they both stood together, side by side. Mervamon was pressing her side as close to Beelzemon as possible and had an arm wrapped around his back, while Beelzemon had placed his own arm across her shoulders and allowed her to rest her head on his own shoulder. The two of them were a mated pair now and had been since a year after the defeat of Bagramon. Quite frankly everyone had been surprised that it had taken them that long, but nobody could deny that the two of did look horrendously sweet together. Code Crown help anyone who tried to hurt one of them while the other one was present.

And so Xros Heart was complete and all gathered around the table. There were even some other faces, such as Spadamon and Lunamon, who had both been Digimon that had been rescued by Xros Heart after an attack by the Bagra Army and, in the case of Spadamon, DigiXrosed Shoutmon X4 on two separate occasions. The two of them didn't live in the castle, but they did visit on a fairly regular basis, so they were practically Xros Heart members as it was.

But still, there were a few faces missing, most notably all the humans. And, though Shoutmon had searched high and low for a reborn Damemon out of duty to Yuu, he had never found him.

It was with the humans in mind that Shoutmon grabbed a glass of water from the table and got to his feet. Though many of the Digimon in the room were far larger than he, everyone spotted it and quieted immediately, watching Shoutmon as he raised the glass in the air. Knightmon nudged Bastemon awake, and every eye in the room was quickly focused on Shoutmon.

"Here we are again," Shoutmon stated. "We have come far since we all first crossed paths with one another many years ago. Back when we all first met, we were divided. We were firmly fixed in our separate factions and armies just as the Digital World was split firmly into its many zones. Xros Heart. Blue Flare. Team Twilight. Each of us fighting for our own aims and our own purposes and, of course, for our own Generals.

"But even as the Digital World was drawn together by Bagramon's evil hand, so were we. Over time, we all became united as one strong force against the evil and, in doing so; we were able to vanquish it. Five years down the line and the bonds we formed on that fateful journey are still very much in place, hence why I see you all before me today. And, as I have done on our previous anniversaries, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for your continued support and dedication to what we fought for and to me as King.

"And, as ever, this is also a time for remembrance. To remember the General who we fought with who are no longer with us, separated with us by the walls of the Human World. Who knows what Taiki, Kiriha, Nene, Yuu, Akari and Zenjirou are doing at this moment? But I am willing to bet that wherever they are and however long it's been for them since we parted ways that they are still together, and still a team just as much as we, their partners, are now.

"And so, as usual, I would like to raise a toast. To our Generals, who will always remain in our hearts, and to you, the Xros Heart United Army."

"And to you, Shoutmon!" Dracomon called out as he raised his own glass. There was a rumble of ascension from around the room as everyone drank in whatever way they could.

"Thank you," Shoutmon nodded. "Thank you one and all." He smiled as he sat back down, tucking in his tail to make sure he didn't sit on it, and watched as, eventually, the conversation and antics from around the room began to pick up from where it had left off once again. When he was sure nobody was looking at him, Shoutmon sighed and leaned back against his large chair, biting his jagged lips and placing his glass back on the table.

He'd certainly had a lot of practice at giving kingly speeches over his five years, but lately… he hadn't really been feeling the passion that he normally used whenever he spoke – the sheer emotion that had always gone behind nearly every syllable that came out of his mouth.

And he was fairly certain he knew why. In recent months he'd been feeling… that feeling. It had begun as a gnawing doubt a couple of years ago and he had tried to ignore it, but, ever so slowly, it had begun to grow inside him. Until now, when it was practically festering in the pit of his stomach, dormant at times but most prominent when it came to performing kingly duties, like just then.

Making sure Ballistamon's face was firmly embedded in a cake and that Dorulumon was occupied talking to Mr. Cutemon, Shoutmon slipped off his throne and headed for the nearest exit. He needed to be alone again to mull things over in his head. But he'd needed to be alone several times in recent months to mull the same thing over and it had never really done him any good.

He headed for the nearest outside platform and moved to the edge, leaning against the platform and staring out onto the surface of the peaceful lake. The sun was going down in the sky, turning the late orange in its fiery glow, but all Shoutmon could do was run his forehead with his hand and grit his teeth.

Why could he not stopping thinking about this thing that was keeping bothering him. It was seriously beginning to get on his nerves. He kept assuring himself that it was nothing to worry about, and yet every time he did that, some part of his body must have been insisting it was denial for he just COULDN'T STOP BELIEVING IT!

It was getting beyond irritating. And more than that, it was beginning to depress him. And depression was _not_ something that should ever be related to a Shoutmon. In any context. He hadn't told anyone about it, believing he could sort his head out himself. But nope, the niggling little thought was slowly intensifying with each day.

He was on the verge of punching himself in the side of the head, to see if that did the job. But he knew that wouldn't really help in any way.

"Shoutmon?"

Shoutmon jumped slightly and turned around to see he now had company. It was Lillymon, standing in the middle of the platform with her hands behind her back and a look of concern on her face. Lillymon was about twice as tall as Shoutmon and resembled a small flower-like fairy with a pink dress, green boots and arm-gloves adorned with flower petals, long, ivy-like hair coming out from a large pink blossom on the top of her head and four green, leaf-like wings coming out of her back.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her big black eyes locking on his blue ones with worry.

Shoutmon immediately put on a faux-grin and said, "Hehe. Course I'm fine, Lillymon. What gave you the impression I'm not. Just needed some fresh air."

Lillymon shook her head. "No, you didn't," she stated. "I saw you deliberately try and sneak out. And this isn't the first time either. I've been keeping an eye on you for a couple of months now when I first thought something was wrong. You've been sloping off to be on your own for some time now."

Shoutmon stared at the sweet Digimon and, after a moment, chuckled dryly. "I always did find it difficult to get things past you, Lillymon."

"Something's clearly bothering you," Lillymon took several steps closer as Shoutmon turned to look back across the lake. "And it has been for a while. What is it? What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing," Shoutmon shook his head. "I can deal with it."

"It is clearly not nothing," Lillymon disagreed. "If it were then you would have dealt with it long before now. Please, Shoutmon. Tell me. I want to help you. What is it? Do you miss Taiki?"

Shoutmon sighed. "Yes," he nodded. "Yes, but it's not that. It's… something else."

"Then what?"

"Lillymon, its fine…"

Lillymon interrupted by leaning down next to him and placing a soft, comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't lie to me, Shoutmon," she pleaded. "Don't you remember when we were growing up together? Whenever something was bothering you, you'd always come to tell me about it, and I always did everything I could to help you because you were my friend. You might be the Digimon King now, but that still hasn't changed. Please. Let me in. Like you used to. Don't bottle it up inside you – let it out. I'm here for you, Shoutmon. Like I always was."

Shoutmon glanced across into Lillymon's pleading face and large eyes, which were now directly level with his own. He held their gaze for a moment before he sighed and said. "Alright. Okay. I… suppose I might feel better if _someone_ else knew about. And you're right. You were always there for me when I needed you before."

Lillymon smiled faintly. "I try," she said.

"I know and I appreciate it," Shoutmon nodded sincerely. "Okay, here goes. It's like this…"

* * *

Again, sorry for the overlong summary of Xros Wars in this chapter, but I just couldn't condense all the epicness from the series down into one little section. I just had to keep writing and writing. I still enjoyed it but still, I am glad that we're past the introductory phases of the two genres. We can move on to the main point of the story in the next chapter. And so, our crossover adventure will soon be beginning with a vengeance!

* * *

Next time…

Shoutmon reveals what's on his mind to Lillymon in a heart-to-heart conversation and Lillymon does her best to try and comfort him. But it appears that Shoutmon is not the only who's been bottling up something inside them.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 3 : Two Secrets**


	3. Two Secrets

Alright then everyone. I am now level in terms of chapter count once again. I fully intend to go with my schedule of two chapters uploaded at the same time every four days from this moment on, and I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter. Really, I do. Because it sets the stage for the themes of the rest of the story, and with this chapter done, just as with Chapter 3 of my other story, the stage is finally set for the crossover itself to finally take place.

Enjoy folks and let me know what you think.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 3:- Two Secrets**

* * *

Shoutmon took a deep breath and shut his eyes, his large black fingers gripping the stonework in front of him as both his teeth and his jagged jaws clenched together. He knew that Lillymon was right and he really shouldn't just bottle things up inside his chest, but at the same time, his reluctance to tell anyone was still very much in place. And it was probably going to remain there for the entire length of this conversation and there was a reason for that.

After all, Shoutmon was the King of the Digital World. And a King was supposed to be strong and not show any signs of weakness to anyone, least of all to those closest to him and those who believed in him like Lillymon obviously did.

And there was the problem. That was Shoutmon's exact problem right there.

He let out the deep breath with a slow exile and looked out towards the lake again before he began, "…You know as well as I do, Lillymon, that the Digital World has been a much better place over these last five years. Ever since the Bagra Army has been defeated, the Digimon have been flourishing under my rule, right?"

"Yes indeed, they have," Lillymon smiled. "You've been a wonderful King, Shoutmon. You've brought peace to every corner of the Digital World and wherever you go, the Digimon know your face and they love you for what you've done for all of us."

Shoutmon looked up towards the top of the castle where a large flag was swaying wildly in the wind. A deep red flag with the symbol that Xros Heart had used ever since they started their fight against the Bagra Army – resembling a circular version of Shoutmon's face. Shoutmon chuckled wryly. "Everyone knows my face," he stated. "Maybe that's because we wave it around on a flag all the time. But that's not really the point – let me get back to what I was trying to say.

"You see, despite my best efforts to keep the Digital World a place of peace and prosperity… well, evil is slowly returning to the surface in our world. That raid on Ranamon's village by the pirate band of CaptainHookmon wasn't the first of such attacks – you remember the incident with that Murmukusmon last month, and let's not get into the time where those SkullBaluchimon stormed into the Cyber City and started wreaking havoc there. When the Code Crown reformatted the Digital World, we saw no sign of evil… not one… for two straight years.

"Then we saw those Vademon that were trying to steal a bunch of other Digimon to try and experiment with them to turn them into mindless slaves which did they're bidding. They were easy to deal with but… ever since then the evil has been getting more and more pronounced and more and more powerful. CaptainHookmon today was still nowhere near as powerful as some of the opponents that we've faced before but… I can't help but wonder how long it will be before we might have to face off against somebody as powerful as the Death Generals were."

"It's a sad fact of life, Shoutmon," Lillymon sighed. "As long as you have free will, you're going to have Digimon that go bad. You know that. After all, free will is one of the main things that we fought against Bagramon to gain in the first place wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I know," Shoutmon nodded.

"And besides," Lillymon added with a smile as she sat down with her legs crossed next to him and kept her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "Even if evil does rise up again in power level to that of the Death Generals, I know that we can defeat them. You and the rest of Xros Heart, the rest of your team in there – you all fought with amazing power and strength to defeat the evil of the Bagra Army. If a wannabe Bagra Army rises up anytime soon, then you can do it again. Your burning heart and the bonds we all formed will see us right. I just know it.

"Not to mention we've got Apollomon and Olegmon on our side now and the Legendary Warriors are all reborn so they can aid us permanently in battle instead of whenever someone activates a Digi-Memory. You've got nothing to be worried about Shoutmon. You'll lead us to victory again. You lead us to victory before after all, didn't you?"

Shoutmon grimaced. Unintentionally, Lillymon had just hit the exact spot that was gnawing at him the most.

Lillymon noticed Shoutmon's expression immediately. "What?" she asked, concerned. "What's wrong? Did I say something bad?"

"No, it's not your fault," Shoutmon shook his head and looked away. "But… well… Lillymon, you just hit my problem right on the head. I… I _didn't_ lead you to victory against the Bagra Army."

Lillymon blinked as Shoutmon clenched his fists, trembling slightly in the familiar pose that he took on when trying to stop himself from roaring in anger and hitting something. The flower fairy then frowned and said, "What? Didn't lead us to… of course you led us to victory Shoutmon. How can you say such a thing like that? You came back to the Digital World for us all even though Bagramon had taken it all over. You fought against the Death Generals with your bare hands. You defeated ZekeGreymon when he and Kiriha turned against us. You faced up to Bagramon when all hope seemed lost and never gave up on your drive to defeat him even after your highest DigiXrosed form had already been beaten."

"Lillymon, you don't get it…" Shoutmon started, but Lillymon cut him off.

"In the very final battle, you were the base of a DigiXros that encompassed not just everyone in the dining room back there, as well as me, but also every single Digimon in the Digital World apart from DarknessBagramon himself. We all felt your burning passion and your incredible heart on that day because all of us joined our hearts with yours, and you wielded the strength we gave you to defeat DarknessBagramon with only one stab of the Final Xros Blade."

"Yes, I did that," Shoutmon conceded. "That much is true but…"

"How is that not leading us to victory, Shoutmon?" Lillymon asked. "If it weren't for you, all of us would have died thank to D5. You lead us out from under Bagramon's oppression and if another like him rises up, which is extremely unlikely to happen for a long time, if at all, then you can do it again."

"You're not listening to me," Shoutmon shook his head and turned back to look her in the eye. "All that stuff that you just said might well have been true. I won't deny that I fought the battles and carried the base of the power of all our DigiXroses. I won't deny that I charged and brought down DarknessBagramon right at the end and, in doing so, undid all his evil to the Digital and Human World. But I did not lead us. I fought for us. But I never led us. Ever. The one who always did that… was Taiki."

Lillymon stared at Shoutmon for a moment and her heart fluttered as she realised what Shoutmon was trying to say. "Wait," she breathed, "You don't mean."

"Yes," Shoutmon grimaced, looking away once again. "You got it. I had physical power and I fought for freedom harder than just about anyone but whenever we went into battle, it was not I that came up with the strategy that actually won the day. It was not I who was the hero. Taiki was always the one that came up with the brilliant plan, unless Kiriha or Nene did it instead. Taiki and the other Generals were the ones who devised how we were going to gain victory in each and every fight."

"But Shoutmon…" Lillymon started, but this time he cut her off instead.

"No," Shoutmon raised up a hand. "Let me give you a myriad of examples of times where things would have gone so badly if I _had_ been the leader. For a start, when I first met Taiki, I was dying. My approach to victory in the Green Zone nearly got me and everyone else who lived there with us killed, but then Taiki came and lent us the strength to DigiXros, and without him and the other Generals to do it, we never would have achieved victory over the Bagra Army at the very first hurdle, let alone all the other times afterwards."

Lillymon bit her lip and was about to say something, but before she could Shoutmon kept talking and as he did so, his voice got increasingly constricted as he rattled off his list.

"Island Zone – Taiki came up with the idea of sneaking behind enemy lines and turning their own guns on their troops, not me. Magma Zone – the only thing I had on my mind was fighting head-on while Taiki was thinking about the prisoners and came up with the idea to give the fake Xros Loader to AncientVolcamon. Lake Zone – I _fell asleep_ on guard duty and let Akari get taken by Lilithmon. Sand Zone – if it had been my decision we would have left Baalmon to die. I almost actively tried to _drag_ Taiki away from him when he was healing him and he would never have become Beelzemon and joined our team if I had been the leader."

"But Shoutmon, that was all when you were just starting out," Lillymon insisted. "You were inexperienced then, but you improved vastly as the journey went on. You trained hard with Ballistamon and Beelzemon to become stronger so you could support the DigiXroses couldn't you?"

"Yes, but that's still strength and not leadership, Lillymon," Shoutmon shook his head. "And I can give you more examples of where Taiki outshined me at every turn. Sweets Zone, up against Matadormon and Brakedramon – all I could think about was charging in and beating them up, but Taiki was the one who was thinking constantly about the safety of the villagers.

"And then against the Death Generals – I never came up with the plans, did I? I never figured out the weaknesses of our opponents or how to beat them. It was Taiki's plan to distract Zamielmon until he grew bigger and found the way to counteract his speed. It was Taiki who figured out to boil Splashmon away since none of our attacks were working on him. It was Taiki who leapt in front of Gravimon's attack to make him get his core out of his arm so that we could kill him.

"In Hell's Field, that's where Kiriha really shone. It was him who came up with the idea of the Generals taking different teams to surprise the enemy. It was him and Taiki and Nene that got through to Yuu about the lies he had been fed by DarkKnightmon. It was Taiki who came up with the idea of allowing DarkKnightmon to take his soul to Prison Land so he could get me, Ballistamon and Dorulumon back, while all I did was get taken."

"Shoutmon, you can't think like that," Lillymon pleased, tears of empathy appearing at the corners of her eyes. "You were a fantastic warrior and a brilliant leader throughout the journey. Taiki got the idea of jumping into Prison Land from you – because you jumped into NeoVamdemon's body to save MetalGreymon."

"Alright, maybe against NeoVamdemon it _was_ me who came up with the idea, but if it hadn't been for the Lopmon…" Shoutmon started, and then trailed off slightly to murmur, "It would have come to nothing. And of course, let's not forget about the final showdown with Bagramon – it was Taiki's reckless plan that allowed me, Beelzemon, Deckerdramon and the others to be revived after we were killed. The Code Crown chose him as the one to represent the Digital World. It did not choose me."

"What are you saying, Shoutmon?" Lillymon gasped. "Are you saying… that you…"

"…Feel that Taiki is far more deserving of the position of Digimon King than me," Shoutmon nodded. "Yes. That's exactly what I feel. Don't get me wrong, Lillymon. I don't begrudge Taiki for anything that he did for us. He was a brilliant General, a master tactician and he fought harder than anyone to help me assume my position as the Digimon King so I could protect the Digital World. I could not have asked for a better partner. We would have all been… totally screwed without him and the others.

"But, in a roundabout way, that's kinda the problem. Taiki was the one who led us to victory, and while I learnt much about being a King throughout my journey, and how a King is supposed to be someone who everybody trusts and who would do anything to protect the people under his rule and I have always done my best to uphold that…"

"…And you've done a wonderful job of it," Lillymon insisted.

"Thank you but let me finish," Shoutmon nodded. "A King is also supposed to be a leader. A true leader. When the fighting breaks out, the King is the one who's expected to organise the defences, come up with the strategies, initiate the counter-attacks, direct his troops across the battlefield and lead the charge in when the time comes. But, as I stand, I only hold the last category. I charged in, certainly. But I also had the power of the DigiXros thanks to Taiki, which gave me the strength I needed through the joining of others.

"And look at me now," Shoutmon looked down at himself, knocking on his chest armour with a couple of fingers. "I'm just a small Digimon with a good heart. I can't DigiXros. I can't Super Digivolve. That was Taiki's doing too. And imagine, just for a moment, that an evil just as powerful, or even greater, than the Bagra Army were to rise up again and, for whatever reason, we couldn't reach the Human World to get our Generals back to help us. What if we got there too late and Taiki and the others were too injured to help us or even dead. And even if we could get them to come to our aid, as King, I am supposed to be the one to lead.

"But if I had been the leader, the true leader, of Xros Heart then we would have failed many times over. I know it. I… I don't deserve my place on the throne."

"No!" Lillymon shouted, startling Shoutmon with the intensity of her voice and actually causing him to take a step back as she surged to her feet and glowered down at him from twice his height. "No! Don't you ever say that, Shoutmon! Don't you ever, _ever_ think that you don't deserve your place on the throne! Ever! Because if you do, you yourself are undermining all the work and effort that you and Taiki and everyone else here put in to make sure you assumed your place on that throne."

Shoutmon blinked and stared up at Lillymon for a couple of seconds, but the small flower fairy clearly hadn't finished. She waved her hand out to the lake to indicate the wide expanse of horizon and said, "Take away the fact that Taiki came up with most of the plans for the fight against Bagramon and think about the bigger picture, Shoutmon. This Digital World that we live in now, and all the peace and benefits that we have had since Bagramon was beaten – that was all you. Taiki had nothing to do with that.

"You're the one who set up the castle and kept us all together as a team. Each and every Digimon in that room behind us is still here after five solid years because each and every one of them believes in you and your leadership. Got that? You think that Cyberdramon would stick around if he thought that you were an unworthy King? You think that Bastemon would still be here if she didn't think you could do a better job of ruling than her? She was a Princess after all, wasn't she?"

"Lillymon…" Shoutmon started, but he was cut off when Lillymon's hand lashed down to place a finger over his jaws, causing him to blink as he glanced down at it.

"I'm not finished," Lillymon stated, as she stood back up. "We all believe in you, Shoutmon. We always have. I, for one, believe with all my heart that if a great evil were to rise once more in the Digital World and that it would be up to us to defeat it without the help of the Generals, you would be able to take charge and crush them with the passion of your heart, even without becoming OmegaShoutmon in the process.

"And your claims that Taiki or Kiriha came up with all the plans makes it sound like you did nothing whatsoever but be a walking weapon for the Generals to use, and we both know that's not true. Remember what happened when I found you and Taiki in Dragon Land when we were being oppressed and attacked by Dorbickmon and his army of Dragon Digimon? That particular occasion sticks out pretty sharply in my mind. What happened?"

"Lillymon, I…" Shoutmon protested.

"Please, Shoutmon, I'm trying to help you," Lillymon's gaze softened and she looked at him with plaintive eyes. "Just tell me… what happened on that day?"

"Well," Shoutmon murmured slowly. "After me and Taiki got back to the Digital World, you found us and disguised Taiki by putting a bunch of flowers on his head. Then, we stopped Dorbickmon's subordinates from killing Dracomon, but when I tried to fight them I couldn't Super Digivolve for some reason. Then Kiriha attacked and nearly hit us and demanded for Dorbickmon to come out, which he then did and completely trashed DeckerGreymon. So, Dracomon was able to rescue us by leading us into the tunnel system he dug.

"But then Dorbickmon's servants started to fill the tunnels with lava so that we would all be burned alive. We ran, and we managed to find on thin tunnel that led up to the surface, but grew too narrow for any of us to go through. As I and the Legendary Gatomon DigiMemory tried to dig our way out before the lava reached us, Dracomon went back to try and block off the tunnel by burning the ceiling and causing parts of it to fall in molten blocks to halt the lava's progress…

"Yes," Lillymon nodded. "And what was it that you said to Kiriha that inspired Dracomon to do that brave act?"

Shoutmon blinked, paused for a moment and then hesitantly answered the question with. "I told Kiriha that Dracomon was stronger than us because even though he was small and weak, he'd been resisting Dorbickmon all this time so he had a stronger heart than all of us."

"Yes," nodded Lillymon. "And the strength of the heart was all that mattered to you back then. It's true that we needed strength of body as well in order to win, but you always believed that it was the strength of a person's heart that defined who they were. And there is no Digimon in this world that has a more passionate and strong heart than you, Shoutmon. So what if you weren't the one who came up with the plans? You believed in Dracomon on that day. You believed in yourself and the strength of your own heart and we all believed in you too. Why should that have changed now that you're King?"

"I… I guess it shouldn't," Shoutmon muttered. "But it's not the strength of my heart that I'm questioning…"

"No, it's not, but you're brushing it aside in favour of this new thing that's worrying you, and, as I just said, the strength of the heart is what matters in the first place," Lillymon said firmly. "If you want further proof of the strength of your heart _and_ why you are definitely the right one to be sitting on the throne, what did you do when Dracomon was standing in front of the river of lava and it was just about to surge over him?"

"I dashed back down the tunnel to grab him and pull him back up," Shoutmon recited.

"And what did Taiki yell at you when you did so?" Lillymon pressed on.

"He… he yelled at me not to do it," Shoutmon bit his lip.

"Exactly," nodded Lillymon. "Even Taiki, who was practically hardwired to help anybody he saw suffering or in danger the moment that he set eyes on it, had given up on Dracomon in that moment. But _you_ outshined him on that day. In more ways than one. For you not only ignored him and saved Dracomon anyway, but in the process, your heart ignited with the power to let you Super Digivolve again, didn't it?

"You shone brighter than the sun on that day, surrounded by golden light that made you look almost holy and I knew… I knew right at that moment, that we were going to succeed and win against Bagramon. Why? Because while you might not have the same amount of strength on the outside that Bagramon did, I knew that your spirit and heart was stronger than that of anyone else. Anyone in the Digital World. Even Taiki. And as long as you never lost that fierce passion, you could overcome any obstacle presented to you.

"And… you… did!"

Shoutmon stared at Lillymon in momentary amazement. While he knew full well that Lillymon often knew what to say to comfort people considering he had grown up with her, he had never seen her like this. He had never heard her voice filled with such conviction and belief in him and it touched him to hear that she thought so highly of him and believed in him so strongly.

He knew that she had given a reassuring talk to Ballistamon when Shoutmon had fallen under the control of the then-evil Olegmon over five years ago… but he knew that she had not spoken like this during that conversation. She was more determined, as if trying to push the information into Shoutmon's head… or beat it in with words.

"I…" he started, not really sure where to go from there.

"You want more proof?" Lillymon asked. "How many other Digimon are there out there who could have ignited such fierce bonds with others to produce something like Shoutmon X7. Not many, I would say. And then we simply go back to the question of Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode. I maintain that there is no Digimon in all of the world… in all of reality, who could have supported the hearts and souls of every single other Digimon out there as part of their own than you, Shoutmon. For anyone else to try something like that… it would have been almost suicide I'm sure. And if it didn't kill them it would definitely cause the DigiXros to collapse immediately."

Shoutmon's jaw was practically hanging open as Lillymon sang his praises right in front of him. As he looked on her face, he saw it soften from her passionate conviction into the empathetic face that she had started the conversation with. Lillymon dropped to her knees in front of him, and her body was petit enough to allow her head to be just about level with his when she settled back down and sat on her booted feet.

She then lifted up her hands and placed them on Shoutmon's shoulders before saying. "Listen Shoutmon… Your Majesty. You are my friend. You've always been my friend ever since I can remember. You know I wouldn't lie to you about this kind of thing. And I've seen you believing so strongly that the strength of the heart was all that mattered for so long that seeing you now, believing that you're not adequate for being a King… it just about breaks my heart. You've changed since you started your journey… but don't change too much. Don't lose your belief.

"And besides, you're strong in body too. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. You managed to not only lift, but _throw_ both Greymon and MailBirdramon at the same time in you present form. That kind of strength is insane for someone of your size and stature."

Shoutmon raised a brow. "You saying I'm short?" he asked.

Lillymon smiled. "Yep," she winked at him. "But putting that aside, even if you don't have the physical strength or power of someone like, say, Apollomon, you are the one, true King of this Digital World. And I believe in you. I always have and I always will. If evil rises again, you will defeat it with or without Taiki by your side. If without, you will prove to everyone that you not only learned a lot from Taiki when he was our General, but that you deserve your spot as King with no more questions asked."

"And don't forget," she added with a smile. "You also have us. Your friends. ChibiKamemon told me about how you once told him that even though he was small, he could become strong as long as he had courage, guts and friends. And you, Shoutmon, have all three of those in abundance. Now, excuse me if this is bad decorum, my King, but I did this when we were kids, so I'm going to do it now."

Shoutmon blinked as Lillymon pulled him into a hug and held him close. He flushed slightly as Lillymon pressed her chin into the crook of his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him and he, slowly, returned the hug.

He realised that he had not received a hug from Lillymon in a very long time, and he could feel a few memories of when he was younger bubbling up in his head of the two of them playing together in the Village of Smiles and getting under the feet of Jijimon and all the Sunflowmon as much as they possibly could. And how he, Lillymon and Ballistamon had all charged across their Zone and messed around in the grass and had nothing but fun together before the war had been brought to them.

Even with the threat of war, everything had been so carefree back then. Shoutmon allowed himself to smile as he remembered the time that he had managed to convince Lillymon to braid about a dozen plaits in Jijimon's beard while the Elder of their village had been sleeping. He hadn't noticed for three days, but had wondered why everyone sniggered as he past.

And he also remembered the time where he had wanted to find out what it was like to fly since he did not have wings or the ability to hover back then, so he had managed to convince Starmon and the Pickmon to form a long line like a rope and hold onto one end of Ballistamon's horn and himself at the other end, while Ballistamon himself had spun around in rapid circles to whirl Shoutmon through the air like a lasso several dozen times before Shoutmon got dizzy and let go, resulting in him shooting right across the Green Zone in complete disorientation. Lillymon had shot off after him and grabbed him moments before he could slam rather painfully into a cliff. And, of course, she had scolded him to no end afterwards.

Things had been so carefree back then. And now, Shoutmon was the King of the Digital World. So much had changed thanks to his adventures against the Bagra Army and the sheer number of friends he had made and with all his responsibilities as King now, he hadn't had the opportunity to do… well… anything like that for the last five years.

But Lillymon's hug confirmed one thing – her relationship to him had not changed at all.

The two of them held each other for about half a minute before they both broke apart simultaneously. Lillymon's face had gone a little red, but Shoutmon smiled at her and said, "Thanks Lillymon. It's good to hear that you have so much faith in me. Really, it is. And I can tell you now that you are a true friend. And one of my dearest."

Lillymon suddenly looked a little bashful and fidgeted with the hem of her pink dress. "Thank you," she said. "That… means an awful lot to me. We don't get to hang around as much as we used to. Nowhere near as much."

"Yeah, I know," Shoutmon nodded.

"So, did anything I had to say permeate through that hard head of yours, my liege?" Lillymon abruptly grinned and tapped her fist on the crux of the V on Shoutmon's forehead three times.

"Yeah," Shoutmon nodded. "Yeah, I have to say it did." He sighed slightly and added, "You've given me a lot to think about Lillymon and I thank you so much for your support. But I think that I'll have to walk down the rest of this path myself. You say I am a worthy King…"

"That's because you are," Lillymon interjected.

"Well, perhaps, but while I clearly have your support and the support of the others… I still need to prove it to myself. For if there's one thing that I do know, a King must believe in himself as much as the people believe in him, or it's only a matter of time before the people stop believing in him." He grimaced for a moment, but then attempted to offer her a reassuring smile. "But, hey, don't worry about me, Lillymon. You go back in there and enjoy the anniversary. I just… need some more time to think, is all. But don't worry. I'll take everything you said into account."

Lillymon seemed to be slightly upset that she hadn't managed to snap Shoutmon out of his funk completely and Shoutmon noticed it. He placed a hand on her gloved arm and said, "Seriously, I'll be fine. You're probably right. It's probably just a phase that I need to get past. And when I snap myself out of it, I'll be sure to come back and give you another hug."

Lillymon sighed and nodded. "Alright," she murmured. "Just make sure you get back to being the old Shoutmon we all know and love soon."

"Yes, ma'am," Shoutmon grinned. "I'm going to go for a walk and try to clear my head a little bit. But could you do me a favour and not talk to the others about this? Just keep it between me and you for the moment. I don't want the others to be getting worried when there's nothing to worry about alright?"

"Alright," agreed Lillymon, as she clambered back to her feet.

"Thanks," Shoutmon nodded. "See you later."

And he turned around, waving over his shoulder and walked off, murmuring quietly to himself as he headed up one of the stone walkways and rounded the corner ahead after about twenty seconds. Lillymon stood in the same spot and watched him go, her hand curled into a small fist and pressed over her heart and her eyes filled with sorrow as she watched him go.

When he vanished from her sight, she shut her eyes and sighed, before turning about to look out across the horizon herself. "Oh, Shoutmon," she muttered to herself. "This isn't like you. This isn't like you at all. You're usually so confident, so strong in mind as well as heart and body, and your blazing soul ignites the fire within us all. Even me…" she paused for a moment and looked over the side of the balcony, to where she could see her reflection in the lake under the fading light of the sun. She stared at herself and added, "Especially me."

She felt a single teardrop roll out of her eye before it fell from her face and hit the lake below, disturbing the reflection of her face. She quickly wiped her eyes to make sure she stopped before someone spotted her, glancing over her shoulder to make sure everyone else was still involved in the party before she slumped back down and rested her arms on the stonework in front of her.

"These doubts are so uncharacteristic of you, Shoutmon," she murmured. "Oh, I remember the day your bond with Ballistamon allowed you to resist Olegmon's spell. And the day that you unleashed all of your strength against the Sun of Grief from Apollomon Whispered with the sheer force of your will to protect us all. When we DigiXrosed into Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode… I could feel your fiery heart as if it was beating in my own chest. So determined, so resolute, so passionate… that's the Digimon that you should be… that's the Digimon… that I fell in love with."

After a couple of seconds, she checked over her shoulder a second time to make sure that nobody had heard her say that, before she turned back and mentally berated herself for saying that out loud. Someone could have been listening. And then the secret that she had been protecting for years would have been out.

* * *

Yes, it was true. Lillymon had long had feelings for Shoutmon. It extended back to when they had both been much younger and in the Green Zone, long before Taiki had come to the Digital World with his own companions. It had first manifested as a sort of childish crush as a result of growing up together. She was only about a year or so older than Shoutmon, just old enough to vaguely remember how he had arrived in the Village of Smiles shortly before the Digital World had broken up into Zones.

She could remember a very large Digimon, blue and white in colour, that had scared her to no end when it had landed on the outskirts of the village. She had been convinced that it was about to destroy the village and it was big enough that it could have crushed one of their huts just by sitting on it. She remembered peering around one of the huts as Jijimon went up to the Digimon, who had handed the Elder a small, red bundle and murmured something unintelligible to him before it had gone.

Lillymon remembered moving out to see the bundle was the young Shoutmon. That was one of her earliest memories, and she and Shoutmon had grown up together ever since, pulling pranks on the other members of the village, including one time where they had managed to procure a bunch of wax and smother Dondokomon's head with it without him noticing, so when he tried to play his drum and it hadn't sounded right he was convinced that he was ill or something. They had both been a lot more innocent back then, and they had grown and played and developed together for many years.

Even back then, Shoutmon had had big dreams and had been determined to learn how to be a fighter so that he could protect everyone he knew and loved.

And that had been one of the many things that attracted Lillymon to him initially. His strength of character, even back then, was amazing. His heart was strong and filled with the desire to protect others, he was funny and full of beans most of the time, and not to mention when he had been smaller, his tendency to lose his temper quite easily had been both adorable and hilarious.

Now, with him being the Digimon King, his occasional tantrums were no longer adorable… but they were still hilarious. Not to mention even now he still had a tendency to go a little overboard whenever something unexpected happened.

Lillymon had convinced herself that her little crush on Shoutmon as they both grew older was nothing more than innocent puppy love and that one day she would grow out of it and the two of them would go on into their lives as friends as they always had, but friends only. That had been the first reason why she had never actually told Shoutmon about her feelings for him. But then, as the two of them got older and her feelings for him only intensified as he practiced smashing enormous logs and rocks with his microphone and with his bare fists in order to get stronger.

She remembered laughing as he pounded a boulder that was too much for him and had danced around the village holding his hand and going "Owowowow! Owowowowowow!" for around half an hour. But Lillymon had been troubled by the fact that her feelings had not yet gone away and were only growing more powerful. It seemed that the more passionate and determined Shoutmon got, the more Lillymon found herself attracted to him.

Even so, she still considered it a childish crush for quite some time, but then Ballistamon had arrived. He had been DarkVolumon at the time and had lost control of himself, madly attacking anything that came within range and wildly thrashing around as if he had absolutely no control over his limbs, screaming near constantly and banging his head against walls and things like that. He had trashed at least three of the Sunflowmon huts and it didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon.

Lillymon remembered standing around the back of another hut, watching as the mysterious robot pounded into a bush for no apparent reason. Jijimon and Shoutmon were crouched nearby and Shoutmon had attempted to rush out and help the distressed Digimon. Jijimon had attempted to stop him, claiming that the new Digimon was insane and there was nothing that Shoutmon could do.

But Shoutmon had been adamant that he could not ignore someone who was suffering just as much as this Digimon, and Lillymon had watched from behind the hut as he had risked his life, for the first real time, to not only protect her and everyone else in the village but also to help a complete stranger. She remembered her heart fluttering in her chest as her feelings intensified for the brave, almost-selfless lizard Digimon as he rolled with the machine Digimon's punches and refused to go down until the machine had collapsed from exhaustion.

She remembered how he had slaved away for hours under the sun, rifling through the machine's circuitry to try and fix him even though he barely had a clue what he was doing. The lengths that Shoutmon had been prepared to go through to help the guy had been the final catalyst to turn the childish crush into full-on feelings of love for him.

When DarkVolumon had become Ballistamon and the group of them had become firm friends, Shoutmon and he had become close friends almost straight away. Lillymon couldn't deny that she had felt quite jealous of Ballistamon at first, because it felt like he had been replacing her as Shoutmon's best friend. But she soon dropped that jealousy when she realised that Ballistamon's presence hadn't changed Shoutmon's relationship with her in the slightest, and they had continued to live life together in peace, all waiting for the day the Bagra Army would finally reach their Zone.

But Lillymon still had not had the courage to go over and tell Shoutmon about her feelings for him. Largely because she believed he would laugh or think that she was joking. She had almost told him a couple of times, but had stopped right before she could say anything at all. Surely Shoutmon wouldn't take a crush that had started when they were kids seriously would he?

Nevertheless they had always been close friends, but Lillymon wanted to be closer still. Shoutmon was maturing into a fine Digimon more determined than ever to figure out a way of becoming the Digimon King as they heard more and more information about the exploits of the Bagra Army.

There had been one time when she had finally convinced herself that she was going to do it. That she was going to tell him. But she wanted to do it alone, so she had managed to get Shoutmon to come into her hut, telling him that she had something on her mind that she wanted to share with him. Shoutmon seemed to be completely oblivious to Lillymon's quiet feelings but had readily agreed to anything he could to help and had entered the hut.

But, just as Lillymon had begun her sentence, Starmon had certainly surged through the door with a cry of, "Brother! They're here! The Bagra Army are finally here! Their flag has appeared in the sky outside!"

Shoutmon had been up and on his feet immediately, dashing out of the tent to see that Starmon was right, and in the distance were the hulking figures of the approaching Mammothmon army. All thoughts of what Lillymon might have wanted to tell him had been banished from his mind and he, Ballistamon, Starmon and the Pickmons and Lillymon herself had hurried forwards, ready to do their part to defend the Village of Smiles. Lillymon was averse to fighting and had not trained nearly as hard as Shoutmon or Ballistamon had, but she was surprisingly naturally powerful and she knew that aversion to violence was going to do you no favours against the Bagra Army.

They had fought hard and the Bagra army had suffered severe casualties under their surprising vigour and strength…

But… in the end… they had lost.

Shoutmon had gone too far. His burning desire to protect the others had led him to storming in unprotected and getting too far ahead of the others. That had been when MadLeomon showed up and had personally attacked Shoutmon, his sheer speed proving too much for the little lizard and Lillymon, Ballistamon, Starmon and the Pickmon had watched in horror as Shoutmon had been killed before their eyes at MadLeomon's claws. He had been flung backwards with data peeling from the rents in his stomach and then he had vanished.

Lillymon had been heartbroken right on the spot, and it felt like her world had fallen down around her. She and the others had beat a hasty retreat and fled back towards the village, but while the others had decided to try and strike again in a spot closer to the village but still some distance away, Lillymon had merely returned to the village with tears streaming down her face and collapsed to her knees on the boundary. Jijimon had charged out and demanded what happened and, trembling and with her spirit entirely gone… Lillymon had managed to push the story out.

To have Shoutmon taken away from her so quickly after she had almost told him of her secret affections for him had torn her apart. And she had knelt there for what felt like hours, Shoutmon's death playing through her mind over and over again, pushing out the distant sounds of combat as Ballistamon, Starmon and the Pickmon had continued to hold off the foe as best they could and slowly been pushed back closer and close to the village.

But, of course, Shoutmon had _not_ died, but been taken to the Human World by Omnimon in the hope someone would hear him. When Shoutmon returned to the Digital World with Taiki, Lillymon had spotted his Soul Crusher attack from the village and had immediately felt her heart inflate with joy and ecstasy. Shoutmon was alive! It was a miracle! It seemed too good to be true!

That had made her think… was it too good to be true? That was why, when Jijimon went out to find him, Lillymon had stayed behind in their village waiting for them anxiously to return. The thought of going out there to find that it was some trick of the Bagra Army and not real would surely shatter her completely, and so she waited… and hoped against hope that Shoutmon was… somehow… still alive.

But it had not been a trick! Lillymon felt like she was about to burst with elation when she saw him charging into the village when the Pteramon was attacking with the human in tow and as he and Ballistamon and the others put an end to the flying menace. Lillymon had wanted to rush over and confess to him right there, but something stopped her again. The arrival of these strange new creatures at first made her wary, but when it turned out they were friendly she then decided she would do it.

But Shoutmon seemed to have things on his mind at the time – the need to convince the humans to stay to help him become the King. Shoutmon was normally extremely considerate, but that thought drove most everything out of his mind so that when he went up to Lillymon he barely said "Hi." Instead he went up to her and announced that they were throwing a party that night to welcome the humans and asked her to dance for Taiki in an effort to convince him to stay.

Lillymon had been mildly offended by this suggestion, but she could clearly see how much this meant to Shoutmon so she had agreed, deciding to leave her confession for another time. Lillymon was an accomplished dancer, the best in the village by far and she had done her best to try and convince the humans to stay… even going so far as to wink and blow a kiss at Taiki. And when Shoutmon had attempted to convince him to stay by pointing out that she was 'hot,' it had taken all of Lillymon's self-restraint not to cave on the spot and go hug him.

She kept dancing, but she knew then, as she knew for a while, that Shoutmon would always be the one to hold her heart, even though he didn't know he owned it.

Everything had kinda spun around from there and Lillymon didn't get the opportunity she had been looking for. Shoutmon and the others were forced to defend the village several more times and Lillymon knew that now was not the time to give Shoutmon other things to think about, so she had left it well alone. She'd been as surprised as anyone when Dorulumon had showed up for the first time, but she watched with admiration as Shoutmon and the newcomers defeated the Bagra Army and claimed the Green Zone for themselves.

When the time came for Shoutmon to leave the Zone, it dawned on Lillymon exactly what he was going away to do and fight an incredibly difficult battle. Her heart stopped at the thought of how he had nearly died and knew there was a distinct possibility that it could happen again, only this time he would not come back. As the other Digimon had jumped into Taiki's Xros Loader, her nerve had failed her and she backed away, the thought of Shoutmon and the others dying shifting around in her mind and believing that if she saw it, it would tear her apart for good this time.

However, when the portal closed and she was sealed off in the Green Zone with the Sunflowmon and the other villagers, she regretted it almost immediately.

Lillymon was now forced to wake up every morning and find that Shoutmon and the others were no longer in the Village, or even in the Zone. This was far worse than going with him and potentially seeing his death. Now, she had absolutely no idea from one moment to another whether Shoutmon was even alive. At a given moment, he could still be alive and still fighting, or he could be dying right at that instant, or he could have been dead for hours or even days. It gnawed at her, and never left her alone for days on end, forced to wait for some kind of sign and praying to any divine force out there to bring them all back alive.

When MadLeomon had been reborn and purified into Leomon, she had been overjoyed, one-hundred percent sure that Shoutmon and the others had something to do with this. But then, almost right afterwards, everything had changed dramatically. Violence had ripped through the Digital World as Bagramon stole the Code Crowns and turned everything around according to his desires. Lillymon remembered the despair she had felt in her heart, in the knowledge that Shoutmon and Taiki had failed in their goal and were very probably dead.

Months of despair and emotional torment had followed for Lillymon after that. She had set out into the new Dragon Land that Green Zone had been a part of, learning things about the new Digital World, watching Blue Flare struggle against Dorbickmon from afar as she desperately searched for any sign of Shoutmon or the other members of Xros Heart. But she went on for months and months of nothing, having several close shaves with the powerful Dragon Digimon that lorded over the area and remaining on the run the whole time.

And then… after so long of nothing… she found him.

Maybe fate had caused it or something like that, but Lillymon had spotted them almost immediately as they arrived back in the Digital World – Shoutmon and Taiki appearing from a portal and gazing about themselves in wonder. Words could not describe just how joyful she felt at that moment… everything had changed for the better all of a sudden. Shoutmon was here… still alive… very much not dead.

And panic had overtaken her immediately when she realised that he would not stay that way for long. She immediately dashed over and surprised them both by leaping on Taiki and shoving flowers in his hair to disguise him as a flower Digimon, but hearing Shoutmon's voice again still sent waves of happiness rushing through her body. But she knew that, despite however much she wanted to, now was not the time for such feelings, as it would not be long before the Dragon Digimon were onto them, and she was indeed right.

From there, as the fight against Dorbickmon progressed, Lillymon withheld her excitement and the declaration of her feelings that was threatening to burst out, knowing that the fight against the Death Generals was much more serious than that. Even after they met with Kiriha and Nene again and Nene defeated Dorbickmon, Lillymon refrained from mentioning it. She journeyed with Shoutmon from that moment on, watching his battles from within Taiki's Xros Loader with increasing amazement as he grew in power and took on opponent after opponent and fought so hard to bring the Bagra Army down, her feelings growing slightly stronger with every passing battle but, again, never bringing them up.

When he had been taken over by Olegmon, she had felt largely useless, as she had yet to contribute very much to Xros Heart's story besides updating them on the situation in Dragon Land. She'd been able to provide comfort to Ballistamon and remind him of how he and Shoutmon had first met to allow him to bring Shoutmon back in a similar manner, and that had worked. But from then on, she had done very little once again, cheering him on as he took on Whispered, and then again as his soul was taken by DarkKnightmon only for it to brought back again shortly afterwards by Taiki.

And then… the final blow to her – Shoutmon's death. His real death. Unable to move and only able to listen as Taiki madly tried to stop Shoutmon from doing something foolish, everyone within the Xros Loader had watched with shock and horror as Shoutmon charged Bagramon with a mighty roar and plunged his fist into Bagramon's chest… only for his body to vaporise on the spot and his data to disperse to the air.

Taiki's scream of despair had rent Lillymon's heart as much as the death itself, and she had sank to her knees within the Xros Loader just as he did, hollow and empty at the prospect of not only being unable to save the wonderful Digimon that was Shoutmon, but at the thought of that impassioning, heartfelt declaration he had given to DarknessBagramon moments before his death, only for his words to seem meaningless as he died. Lillymon had never felt so empty in her life. Her beloved Shoutmon was gone… really gone… and she had never had the guts, nor the opportunity, to tell him how much he meant to her.

She thought about giving up right there, losing the will to live entirely and just sinking to the ground and never acknowledging that anyone existed ever again.

But she didn't. For she knew there was hope. The Generals had been long talking about getting the Code Crown and reviving Deckerdramon and Beelzemon, both of whom had also lost their lives by this point. If they could get the Code Crown back from DarknessBagramon…

… then Shoutmon could be revived.

Filled with fire at the prospect of this, Lillymon had joined the fray with a will and had surprised even herself with what she'd been able to do on that day. Determined to make the deceased Shoutmon proud of her, she had wrought a surprising amount of havoc on the Bagra Army that day, including throwing the two Bombmon into the face of a giant Valvemon to throw it off balance when they exploded and then hitting it in the forehead with her Flower Cannon to send it toppling onto its back, crushing several dozen Troopmon beneath it before it had burst into data itself.

When Taiki had re-appeared with Shoutmon and the Code Crown, Lillymon's joy had been without limit, and she had every urge to dash over and sweep Shoutmon into her arms right then and there.

Unfortunately, Mervamon beat her to it and charged over to jump on the newly-reborn Beelzemon and literally carry him to the ground with tears in her eyes. Lillymon had felt slightly envious of Mervamon at that point. She had only started to develop feelings for Beelzemon on the day he had died, whereas she had loved Shoutmon for years and had never been able to bring up the courage to do something like that.

Everything had gone quickly from there, and Lillymon had been a part of Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode just as everyone else had done, and, in time, they returned to the Digital World once more. But, as Shoutmon began to set himself up as King and sort out the Digital World, a horrible thought had occurred to Lillymon – if by some miracle she was able to tell Shoutmon about her feelings for him and he accepted them and everything that she'd been hoping for happened and they became a mated pair… then wouldn't that automatically make her the Digimon Queen?

The prospect had shocked and scared Lillymon. She remembered Shoutmon's words to DarknessBagramon before he had been killed at the Demon Lord Digimon's hands – all about how the King was supposed to be the one that everybody trusted… the one who would act for the Digital World's inhabitants in their best interests without a moment's hesitation. The one who could make the inhabitants of the Digital World stronger themselves and believed in them to the end.

If there was to be such a thing as a Digimon Queen…

…then wouldn't they have to be the same? Wouldn't they need to be strong in mind and spirit and body? Just as much as the King which they were mated to?

Lillymon's heart had practically stopped as she wondered at those questions? All of those things would be required of her too if she were to become Shoutmon's mate. But could she do that? Was she really the sort of Digimon who the others might require as their Queen? Was she made of the right stuff like Shoutmon was as the King?

It had not taken her very long to decide that the answer was no. She was certain that she did not have what it took to be the Digimon Queen. She was strong to a degree yes, but she had nowhere near the will and the determination that Shoutmon possessed. If she had then she would not have hesitated to join them on their quest in the first place when they went off to fight against the Bagra Army in the first place. She would not have shrank back at the prospect of seeing Shoutmon die. She would have jumped right in.

More than that, she would have helped him in his battles, but apart from the initial one in the Green Zone before Taiki showed up and the final one at the end, she had not done that. She had been of almost no use whatsoever throughout the majority of the quest.

She was sure that she was one of the last Digimon who would have made a good, or even an acceptable, Digimon Queen. She was completely certain of it. Even Bastemon, who had spent the majority of her time asleep in the Xros Loader, had been more helpful than her in the grand scheme of things and she was already royalty so she would have made a far better Queen than her too.

So Lillymon had realised, with a brutal finality, that while the defeat of the Bagra Army at last had fulfilled Shoutmon's dream and allowed him to rise as Digimon King… her own dream had been completely flattened in the process. She could never be Shoutmon's mate now. He was way out of her league. He deserved someone far better than her – someone stronger and just as passionate as himself.

But now that passion was at an all-time low thanks to Shoutmon's new-found doubts about himself and while Lillymon had done her best, it had clearly not been enough. She sighed. She couldn't even bring Shoutmon out of his depression. No, she definitely was not Digimon Queen material. And so she had kept her feelings for Shoutmon a secret still even during the five years of peace. Whenever she looked on Shoutmon, a part of her always felt sad. Sad that she had not tried as hard as he had and sad that she would now never get to be with him. She led a happy life here in the castle with the rest of Xros Heart… but not a completely happy one.

"Oh Shoutmon," she murmured. "If only there was something I could do for you to help you now."

She traced her finger across the stonework for a moment, before an idea came to her and her expression hardened slightly. Pushing herself off the balcony stone railing, she turned around and walked back into the castle as the last vestiges of the sun faded away behind her, signalling the end of a new day. The conversation was still going on full blast, but Lillymon ignored it all and walked straight up to one particular individual leaning against the wall.

"Um… Beelzemon," she piped up as she drew level with him.

Beelzemon was at least twice Lillymon's height, and the dark-winged Demon Digimon looked down at her with a smile. Mervamon was still leaning against him and he still had his arm slung around her shoulders to hold her close, but Mervamon merely smiled too as Beelzemon said, "Yes, Lillymon? Can I help you with something?"

"Well… yes and no," Lillymon said. "I do need your help, but it's because someone else needs it more. It's… it's about Shoutmon, you see."

"Shoutmon?" Beelzemon blinked, his eyes flicking up to the throne at the end of the table which was noticeably empty and scanning the room briefly. He mentally kicked himself for not noticing Shoutmon leaving the room – he was supposed to be the silent observer who saw everything and yet Shoutmon was clearly not here now. "What's wrong?" he looked back to Lillymon. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure," Lillymon bit her lip. "He wandered out about ten minutes ago. He… he has quite a few things on his mind at the moment. A few… doubts about… things."

"What kind of things?" Mervamon asked with concern.

"I… I promised him that I wouldn't tell anyone about what he's thinking but I can't just stand there will he's like this. And I didn't promise not to tell someone that he has doubts about _something_," Lillymon added with a smirk.

Beelzemon chuckled. "Fair enough," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

"I tried to help but apparently my words didn't really do the job," Lillymon sighed. "I thought that you might do better at talking to him and convincing him to stop worrying about… the things he's worrying about. You're a warrior, like him, so… I thought your perspective might be more helpful than mine."

Beelzemon nodded. "Alright," he nodded, unslinging his arm from Mervamon as she released his waist and allowed him to fold his wings around himself. "I'll go look for him and see what I can do."

"Thanks," Lillymon smiled gratefully. Beelzemon nodded and, moments later, vanished into thin air. The only thing that remained was a single feather which wafted into the air and spun lazily towards the ground, though Mervamon caught it before it could land.

"You're very devoted to Shoutmon, aren't you, Lillymon?" Mervamon smiled, looking down at the much smaller female Digimon.

"We've grown up together," Lillymon stated. "I've known him since I was a kid. Isn't devotion kinda in the rule book for that?"

Mervamon chuckled. "Perhaps," she nodded, stepping over and patting Lillymon on the shoulder and guiding her back towards the table. "But it's not necessary to follow those rules, but you obviously do. Now come on, let's grab some pudding before Dondokomon and Starmon devour it all."

Lillymon smiled and chuckled when she saw the small drum and the star were doing just that, as she and Mervamon picked up a glass each, clinked them together and drained their contents. As they did so, Lillymon couldn't help feel slightly envious of Mervamon again. She and Beelzemon had come together so easily, and Mervamon had all the right qualities of being a Queen. If she hadn't been already in a relationship with Beelzemon and about nine times taller than Shoutmon, she would have been the ideal choice.

Nevertheless, Lillymon pushed that thought aside and tried to enjoy the rest of the anniversary party as best she could, though she wasn't able to get rid of the niggling worry for Shoutmon in her mind entirely.

* * *

Shoutmon had wandered the corridors for a few minutes with no particular destination in mind before he found himself heading down a flight of stone stairs, the bottom of which could not be made out due to the darkness that enveloped the passageway ahead of him, and the fact that it curved around and out of sight.

Shoutmon came down here quite often and the darkness certainly didn't bother him. He walked slowly down the steps, his yellow scarves tickling his tail slightly as he progressed downwards. He was roughly in the very centre of the enormous castle quite a way behind the Great Hall that the others were all feasting in, and he had had to open a very large Chrome-Digizoid door to get in here. A door that could only be unlocked by placing the prongs of his microphone into the appropriate slots, and weighed an awful lot, so even he had struggled to move it.

He traversed the spiralling staircase down and down and down into the bowels of the earth and quite some way below the castle itself. He didn't know exactly how far under the castle it went but he knew that it went quite a distance, perhaps somewhere between one-hundred to two-hundred yards beneath the surface of the Digital World. The walls were lined with Chrome Digizoid to keep Digimon from burrowing their way through into this corridor from underground. What was not indestructible metal was thickset stone. Everything about this staircase was designed to stop intruders from getting inside.

Eventually, Shoutmon reached another door at the bottom of the staircase, illuminated against the darkness by the thin light that seemed to be seeping through the tiny gaps under the door and around the sides of the frame. A thin but quite bright light. Shoutmon stepped closer to the door and hefted his microphone, proceeding to use it to push in several metal slabs in the thick, equally indestructible door in a specific pattern… like a pin code on a door or an ATM machine, but with ten slabs to push and twenty different moves to make.

It had been hell trying to learn it, but Shoutmon had managed it.

Once he was done, he heard the gears grinding slowly in the door as they accepted the combination he had just put in, the huge heavy bolts slowly retracting inwards so that the door swung slowly open, the sound of giant metal hinges grinding against one another as they did so. Shoutmon didn't flinch as the golden light pulsed outwards and washed over him, refusing even to blink as he stepped into the light, practically bathed in it as he entered the room, and stared at the room's contents.

Floating in its very centre was a single, large golden object in a very large diamond shape, which was slowly revolving on the spot. It was almost two-dimensional, meaning it was nearly completely flat with thin edges and wide surfaces and its revolutions were paced and even, as if it had all the time in the world.

This was the Code Crown, the object that the Bagra Army had been striving for when Xros Heart began, the object they had obtained and used to reformat the Digital World and been turned into the Dark Stone by Bagramon, before choosing Taiki as its true wielder and allowing then to make the Final Xros. Then it had allowed Shoutmon to reformat the Digital World once again into the form it was in today.

It was the object that Shoutmon and the others had risked everything to find and possess.

After DarknessBagramon had been defeated and the reformation of the Digital World, Shoutmon had brought it down here to the bowels of the castle, where nobody could reach it unless he was present and use its powers for evil once again. And here it had lingered ever since.

"You know," Shoutmon murmured to the Code Crown, sure that it could hear him even though it seemed to be a mostly inanimate object. "I'm aware that you probably can't respond to me in any way… but I could really use your guidance right now."

The Code Crown didn't respond of course, but Shoutmon ploughed on anyway. "I just have so many questions that need answering. Am I the right Digimon to be the King of this world? Would I be able to protect you if someone attacked this castle and tried to steal you for their nefarious purposes? After all, you chose Taiki to be the one to represent this world. And, at the end of the day…how does that reflect on me? I failed to get to you, while Taiki did not."

He sighed and closed his eyes slightly, leaning on his microphone for support. "Can I really call myself a King on my own? What am I… without Taiki?"

Shoutmon practically leapt out of his skin when a voice behind him said, "You are Shoutmon. And you are the rightful King of this world." He whirled around to find the door behind him framed by a tall figure with broad, black wings.

"Beelzemon!" he gasped, sighing with relief.

"And your people," Beelzemon added firmly, "will follow you to whatever end."

"You do have a habit of springing out of nowhere," Shoutmon bristled. "Have you been following me?"

"Only since you reached the top of the stairs," Beelzemon replied. "I came to speak with you… about your little doubts."

"So you knew as well then?" Shoutmon raised a brow.

"Not until a few minutes ago," Beelzemon shook his head. "But don't blame Lillymon. She's worried about you and she thought I could help, but she refused to tell me what the problem actually was since she did promise that."

Shoutmon blinked and then chuckled. "Trust Lillymon to find a loophole like that," he murmured.

"Well, I think I got the gist of it from what you were saying to the Code Crown there," Beelzemon stepped further into the room. "You actually have doubts about your ability to be the King? Shoutmon, do you not think that you earned your place on the throne?"

"To be honest, I did at first, but now I am not so sure," Shoutmon replied evenly. "As I said to Lillymon, I fought with all my strength but I never led the battle. Taiki always came up with the strategy, even I did help to make the strategy work. He was always the one that came up with the way to help us pull through. Can I really call myself the King if I don't have him by my side?"

"Kings come in many forms, Shoutmon," Beelzemon stated simply. "I have seen enough of them during my dealings with the Bagra Army to know that. There are Kings who plan the strategies, there are the Kings who lead the charge, there are the Kings who care for the people and there are the Kings who have only their own interests at heart. You are the King that is right for this Digital World. You fit it like Berenjena does to my arm," he smirked, hefting the enormous cannon that made up his right lower arm.

"Your support means a lot," Shoutmon admitted. "But without Taiki I would never had a hope of obtaining my throne."

"Perhaps," Beelzemon conceded. "But it was not all Taiki who got you to where you are now. As I recall, you decided to train with Ballistamon and later myself when we were in the Ninja Zone such was your determination to become the King. Taiki had nothing to do with that. You did it without even telling him. You worked to become stronger yourself and, as I recall, it paid off. We defeated Blastmon on that day. And I remember clearly what you said on that day during the fight with Blastmon."

Shoutmon said nothing, knowing that Beelzemon was going to repeat it anyway, which he then did:-

"'I want to get stronger. I won't lose to the Bagra Army or the Blue Flare. I won't miss a single teardrop. The world that Taiki wishes for… I want to see it. I promise you all, I'll become the Digimon King. I won't let anyone cry! The strongest King ever!' Those were you exact words, Shoutmon. What happened to the Digimon who held such determination?"

"He became the King," Shoutmon nodded. "And he finally realised the full reality of the job."

"On the contrary, I think you've lost your grip on it," Beelzemon shook his head. "The Shoutmon from then would have worked hard to overcome his doubts about himself, if he even had them in the first place, and strive to become a better King, not sit around brooding on whether he was right for the job. He would have done something about it. You were a great warrior, Shoutmon. Do not lose your belief now after five years of being King."

Shoutmon grimaced. "But without Taiki…"

"You are not looking at the bigger perspective," Beelzemon interrupted. "It is true that without Taiki we could not have won the war. But without _you_ by his side, Taiki would never have prevailed either. You led us as much as he did, Shoutmon. I believe that if any one of the rest of us had been Taiki's partner instead of you, we would have failed even with Taiki's help."

Shoutmon's jaw almost dropped comically at Beelzemon's words.

"The two of you were the _pair_ that saved the Digital World," Beelzemon concluded. "You think that you're nothing without Taiki? If that is the case, then Taiki would have been nothing without you too."

Shoutmon stared blankly for a second, but then he ploughed on with. "But that's just it! Taiki's not here now. Without him, how can I…?"

And then… without no warning whatsoever… the Code Crown practically exploded with light.

* * *

Well, what did you think of that? Yes, Lillymon has feelings for Shoutmon and according to my adaptation she always has. Some of you might be thinking – that's a really weird pairing. Well, of course it is. But it still makes a hell of a lot more sense than my main pairing for my other story with Renamon and Terriermon. I hope you all liked the version of events from Xros Wars from Lillymon's perspective. This chapter was really fun to write, because it allowed me to make so many allusions to the bulk of the series and Shoutmon's epicness throughout.

I guess this is goodbye for another four days.

* * *

Next time…

The Code Crown inexplicably acts. Having heard all about Shoutmon's doubts in his position as King, it has decided to do something about it. But what does that mean for Shoutmon and the rest of our intrepid heroes? Why – it means they're going on a little trip of course.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 4 : Choice of the Code Crown**


	4. Choice of the Code Crown

Here I am again. This is a few hours later than I was hoping for, but some editing work for a presentation on the Scotland expedition put a serious cramp in my schedule. Nevertheless, I was able to hammer out this chapter just about on time and I hope that you all enjoy the bizarre ride that this chapter takes, along with the fourth chapter of my other story. Not much else to say than that to be honest, except read on and I have to get to bed now as I have my presentation in the morning.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 4:- Choice of the Code Crown**

* * *

Shoutmon's arm shot up to shield his eyes from the sudden, intense light-show that the Code Crown was giving off. Beelzemon acted similarly, his wing curving upwards to blot out a large portion of the light while his cannon automatically prepped itself in readiness for some kind of action. The entire room was highlighted by the Code Crown's intense glare, the stonework and all four corners of the room practically glowing golden like sand on a tropical beach under the light of the sun.

"What… what's going on?" Shoutmon cried, raising his voice so that it could be heard over the sheer sound of the concentrated power that the Code Crown was currently giving off.

"I don't know," Beelzemon called back. "Has it ever behaved like this before?"

"Not since we placed it in this room for its protection," Shoutmon replied through gritted teeth, lifting his hand slightly and narrowing his eyes as he attempted to get a good look at the Code Crown. The light was so intense that he was almost completely blinded on the spot and he was forced to cover his eyes again immediately, but from what he had been able to make out it seemed as if the Code Crown was spinning faster than before, revolving on the spot like a spinning top and flashing with burst upon burst of power as the light began to come off it in waves to bathe the room in further light.

"In fact, I've never seen it act as brightly as this," Shoutmon stepped backwards a little further. "Could it be malfunctioning?"

"It's the Code Crown," Beelzemon objected. "It's the conduit for the entire data structure of the Digital World… it would not malfunction without a very good reason."

"But it malfunctioned once before, didn't it?" Shoutmon pointed out, looking back at Beelzemon and still unable to open his eyes fully due to the intense light coming from behind him. "The Legendary Warriors said that the rapidly evolving technology of the Human World and the massive amounts of Digital power they were creating caused the distance between the worlds to shrink and the energy from it warped the Code Crown in the first place. That's what caused the Digital World to split up in the first place."

"Do you think it could be happening again?" Beelzemon growled. "Could the Digital World be about to split into Zones again?"

"I don't know," Shoutmon grunted. "I don't know. But whatever it is," he added, summoning his microphone into his hand once more, "I have a really bad feeling about it."

"I'll go and get Wisemon," suggested Beelzemon. "He might be able to shed some light on this."

"Good idea," nodded Shoutmon. "I think…"

He paused suddenly as the light of the Code Crown died down dramatically, allowing both the two Digimon to lower their arms and wings and get a good look at the Code Crown once again. Shoutmon's eyes widened as mostly flat diamond took on a three-dimensional shape, becoming a much more literal diamond and, at the same time, turning a rich purple colour as more golden light began to gather around its edges.

Shoutmon's mind flashed back to during the fight against the Bagra Army, when they had just conquered the Sword Zone. The Code Crown had done this back then too, and it had allowed the reformation of the Digital World to begin and also allowed the mortally wounded Grademon to be reborn with a new form and a good heart.

But why was it doing it again. Shoutmon had not asked it to reformat the Digital World. And there was nobody who needed fixing or being brought back to life this time.

Beelzemon had temporarily forgotten that he was supposed to be going to get Wisemon, as both he and Shoutmon stood, enthralled, as the Code Crown's spinning speed began to decrease as softer waves of golden light began to peel off its edges and wash over the both of them. The two of them felt… a presence entering their heads. A presence that was not their own but they had both felt before – when the both of them had been reborn after being killed at the hands of the Bagra Army's minions.

They knew that that was the way that the Code Crown communicated. It did not speak – it did not have the capacity for speech, or if it did it had never revealed it, but it seemed to be able to communicate its message just fine without the need for it. At the present, it was reassuring the both of them, letting them know that this was not a malfunction and that they had nothing to worry about.

"What in the Digital World is going on?" Shoutmon murmured, stepping closer to the Code Crown as if proximity to it would provide him with an answer.

The Code Crown did not respond for several moments, hovering there almost completely innocently as if nothing whatsoever had happened. Shoutmon felt the presence in his brain yet again and, though it would be nearly impossible to describe the sensation, Shoutmon sure that the presence was focusing around the portion of his brain that contained his doubts about his own ability to be the Digimon King.

Was the Code Crown trying to give him a message? Like some sort of reassurance of its own?

Shoutmon could not be sure.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to find some clarification as to what the Code Crown was saying. "Yeah, I… I'm not… completely sure that I am the right one to be King. I mean, what with you choosing Taiki and… well, don't get me wrong, Lillymon and Beelzemon have given me a lot to think about but… still I…"

Beelzemon was about to cut Shoutmon off and give him a few more words of encouragement, but the Code Crown beat him to it. Without warning, it suddenly flared into light again, brighter than ever before… so bright that literally the only thing that Beelzemon or Shoutmon could see was whiteness as the light surged over them and… into them at the same time.

And then, the Code Crown, Shoutmon and Beelzemon all vanished completely, disappearing into thin air as if they had just completely fizzled out of existence.

* * *

The Great Hall was still a throng of activity not far away from the Code Crown's chamber, but the energy of the night was beginning to die down. The Opossumon and Candlemon who had been adorning the feast had left the room and some of the members of the Xros Heart United Army were beginning to get a little sleepy themselves.

"Ugh, my old bones are beginning to seize up again," Jijimon murmured as he pushed himself up on his staff. "I think it's about time I turned in for the night."

"Yes, I am thinking the same thing," nodded Mr. Cutemon, turning with a smile to their young son. "We should probably be getting some sleep as well, son."

"Aaw, do we have to, kyu?" Cutemon murmured. "I'm really not that tired, Papa."

"That may be but you're still a growing boy," his mother added with a smile. "Even if you are a hero of the Digital World, you still definitely need your sleep."

Cutemon pouted. "Dorulumon," he turned to his large, orange guardian. "Can I stay up a little while longer, kyu?"

Dorulumon chuckled. "Sorry, Cutemon, but your parents have spoken. I wouldn't dare do anything that would oppose your mother's will."

"Aaw," Cutemon murmured, getting up of his backside as his parents led him towards the edge of the table while Jijimon climbed down from his chair in preparation of heading towards the door.

"Who wants to go to bed when it's party time!" Dondokomon cried as he continued to bound around the table, smacking himself in the head with his drumsticks. "I could do this all night."

"Do you ever run out of energy?" asked Ballistamon.

"Nope. Not that I can remember," the drum Digimon grinned as he span in circles and continued to beat out his merry tune.

"Could somebody remind me why we continue to hang out with all of these little squirts?" MailBirdramon murmured as he stared over at the antics of Starmon, ChibiKamemon and Dondokomon.

"Because they all played a part in the war and because we all follow Shoutmon faithfully together," Deckerdramon chuckled, as one great eye rolled over to look at his fellow member of Blue Flare.

"Yes, I know that," MailBirdramon rolled his yellow eyes. "I was being sarcastic. Partially."

"Aww, come on, MailBirdramon. Don't be such a killjoy," Sparrowmon giggled as she swooped low over his back and held a packet of Digi-Noir in front of his nose. "Here, have some more nibbles."

MailBirdramon closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the uncharacteristic sniggering that was coming from Greymon as Sparrowmon began to reach into the DigiNoir box and pull out handfuls to lob them at MailBirdramon's face and demand that he open wide.

Lillymon had taken up another seat by perching herself on the edge of the table as she continued to speak with Mervamon. Mervamon was talking about her relationship with Beelzemon at the moment and was totally unaware of the slight twinges of sadness that this was bringing up within Lillymon.

"…I do sometimes wish that he showed more emotion at times," Mervamon was admitting. "I mean, I love him for the person he is and all… but that person is often the quiet and brooding type who likes to keep a constant eye on things. Don't get me wrong, I love that part of him – it makes him seem like some sort of mysterious warrior brimming with power, which is quite apt because that's what he is. But still… do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I hear you," nodded Lillymon with a smile. "But overall, I'd say that it sounds like the two of you have it fairly good together."

"Oh, more than fairly," Mervamon smiled. "We complement one another extraordinarily well, if you ask me. And I don't mind telling you, one of my most vivid memories to date is the look on his face the first time I kissed him. It was the only time that I've ever seen his face go redder than his eyes."

Lillymon laughed. "Have you ever thought about… you know… having a kid?"

"Sometimes," Mervamon nodded. "But we've both never really given it a whole lot of thought, to be honest."

"Why not?" Lillymon asked curiously.

Mervamon shrugged. "Call it the duty of being a warrior, but it just doesn't really come up in our minds that often. But I'm sure that… one day… we'll have one."

Lillymon smirked. "I wonder who'll propose the idea first."

Mervamon's jaw quirked slightly. "Me too," she chuckled. "Me too."

A moment later she blinked in surprise and looked out towards the middle of the table. Lillymon turned to follow her gaze and started when they saw a golden glowing light was appearing out of nowhere in the centre of the room. Mervamon immediately took up a battle stance and her massive sword appeared out of thin air to be grasped in her one hand while the snake arm hissed in readiness for a fight.

All activity in the room immediately ceased, even the smaller Digimon dancing around the table. Jijimon and the Cutemon family stopped by the door they were about to walk out of and turned back to look, gasping at the golden light which was filtering out of nothingness. Several of the other Digimon readied certain signature attacks, ready for anything that dared to disturb their anniversary party.

They were therefore very surprised when, with a flash of light, Shoutmon and Beelzemon suddenly appeared in the middle of the table. And, although they had both been on one side of the purple Code Crown when they had been transported there, now they stood on either side of it, the large diamond-shaped structure spinning freely between them.

"What the…" Shoutmon blinked as he found himself standing in the middle of his own banquet table with one foot plunged into the remains of a cake. "Aw man," he murmured, lifting said foot and shaking it to send bits of cake flinging all over the place.

"Shoutmon," Dorulumon blinked, the formality of Shoutmon being a King not present since Shoutmon had insisted that they not refer to him by that title since they were his friends. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Shoutmon cried. "I went down to check on the Code Crown and suddenly it started… misbehaving."

The Code Crown began to shine brighter once more, the purples edges blazing with light that stretched across the entire room to illuminate every single individual present. Several of the backed away. Cyberdramon stepped forward with his double-bladed spear ready in case something happened.

"What's it doing now?" Lunamon flinched as the glowing intensified and she shielded her eyes.

"Damned if I know," Shoutmon stepped back as well. All eyes on the room were fixed rigidly on the Code Crown as it began to spin faster and faster, the lighter centre of the diamond flashing slightly as it picked up speed and glowed like some kind of lamp within a strangely shaped container.

"I think it's going to explode," ChibiKamemon murmured fearfully.

"It better not!" Greymon snarled. "If it does then we'll have to go about finding all of its pieces again."

"I do not think that it will explode," Wisemon stepped up onto the table for a closer look. "It looks to me as though it is… utilising some kind of power from deep inside it. What that power might be though, I do not know."

"It's getting awfully fast now, brother!" Starmon cried. "And it's making be dizzy."

Right as the small Digimon spoke, a beam of light suddenly lanced out of the Code Crown and connected with Shoutmon's chest. Shoutmon started and stared down at it, but it felt like that nothing was there at all.

"Care to explain this, Wisemon?" he asked.

"Hmm… I…" Wisemon started but he was cut off when another beam of light shot out of the Code Crown and connected with Beelzemon's chest. And then another shot out to hit Dracomon, who was the closest besides them, and then another went to Wisemon himself, and then another to Starmon and several others to each of the Pickmon and the then one to Bastemon, who was very much awake, and so on and so on.

In less than twenty seconds or so as more beams lanced out of the Code Crown, practically every single person in the room was connected to the Code Crown by a strange beam of light. The only ones who weren't were both of Cutemon's parents, meaning that every single member of the Xros Heart United Army, including the irregular members Spadamon and Lunamon, now had a trail of light leading to the Code Crown.

"Wisemon?" Shoutmon prompted.

"It appears to be manipulating whatever power it is using to connect to each one of us," even Wisemon sounded a little nervous now. "I still don't know what that power is though, and without further data I cannot suggest what m…"

Suddenly the Code Crown practically burst with light, swamping the entire room with it in an instant like the most ridiculously powerful camera flash that ever existed. Nobody had the chance to see their eyes and everybody saw only white. Everyone connected to the Code Crown felt a sudden rushing sensation in their bodies and then…

…the light cleared. And the Code Crown began to slow its spinning and returned to its golden, near-two-dimensional shape as if nothing whatsoever had happened.

Except something had happened:-

Every single Digimon in the room who had been connected to the Code Crown via one of the light beams had vanished.

Gone. Not a trace of them of them anywhere.

Which meant that the only two people left in the room were Cutemon's two parents. Everyone else had just… disappeared.

"What?" Mrs. Cutemon gasped her hands grasping the empty air that her son had been in moments ago. She had had her hands on his shoulders and now he was just… not there. He had vanished from beneath her fingers the moment that the light had blinded her. "What… what's going on? Cutemon? Where are you? Cutemon! Answer me!"

Mr. Cutemon looked around the empty room wildly and in complete astonishment. "But… but that's not possible. What in the Digital World happened? Where did everyone go?"

"Our son!" Mrs. Cutemon cried. "Our son has gone! Where is he? Quickly… we have to search the castle! He… He's got to be around here somewhere. He can't have been taken away from us like this… he just can't."

"Okay, dear, let's calm down," Mr. Cutemon placed his hands on her shoulders. "_Everyone_ has gone. We need to get together all of the other people in the castle and begin a search. We need to try and find them, any of them, and quickly. Let's hurry."

Mrs. Cutemon took a moment to calm herself and nodded, but before any of them could move, the door opened and Coronamon walked in, laden with a very big cake. "And specially for his Majesty, Shoutmon…" he announced to the room, before looking around the cake and discovering the nearly completely empty room. "Huh? What the… Where did everybody go?"

"We don't know," Mrs. Cutemon wailed. "The Code Crown began acting up and then they just… vanished!"

Coronamon blinked. "They… vanished?"

"Yes! Right in front of us!" Mrs. Cutemon nodded violently.

"Are… are you sure?" Coronamon blinked again.

"Yes! My son… the King… all of them… gone!"

Coronamon took a moment to look at the empty room and the spinning Code Crown as if to determine whether this was some kind of strange joke, but, as soon as he was convinced that it was not by the earnest looks on the faces of the two distraught parents, he dropped the cake with a resounding crash and darted back the way he had come to alert the kitchen staff and start some kind of search, Cutemon's two parents hurrying along behind him.

* * *

Completely unaware of the events occurring many dimensions away, the River Anduin continued its long and winding path down through the centre of Middle Earth, from its many tributaries up in the northern Grey Mountains and continuing on straight through Rhovanion and past the Misty Mountains, down through Rohan and Gondor to its Mouth in the Bay of Belfalas. The river never wavered in its course or its activity, the water in it following the same pathway and varying speeds along its length for all hours of the day and regardless of what happened around or on it.

The river saw much change as it continued southwards from one end to the other, overlooking woodland, mountain and plain alike. But perhaps the most interesting thing that had happened on it today had been the passing of three small, lightweight wooden boats, silverish in colour and seeming to slide across the water surface smoothly instead of ploughing through it.

The boats were of Elven design, hence why they were so delicate looking and yet so efficient on the water, giving them the grace that everything designed by the Elves possessed. But, as of the moment, there was only one elf in any of the three boats, for these were the transports of the eight remaining members of the Fellowship of the Ring – the small group of many races that had set out from Rivendell with their ninth companion and leader, who was now lost to them, with one destination and one goal in mind.

They were heading to the fires of Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring. The Ring that Sauron the Dark Lord had created to rule over all the magical rings of power he had tricked the Elves of old into making.

This was their second day on the river and it had just drawn to a close. Just like the first day, it had been mostly devoid of talk, each member of the Fellowship carrying on with their own individual thoughts and issues, memories of their last stop at the Golden Wood of Lothlórien still in their mind, and lamenting the fact that the Wizard Gandalf could not be there with them to share the experience of the spectacular scenery that they were passing as they travelled.

As dusk drew in, the new leader of the Fellowship – Aragorn, son of Arathorn – had directed them towards the western shore. Night was not a good time to travel on the river unless it was urgent, for the orcs that feared the sunlight would be able to move freely at night and patrol the eastern shore in search of their next victims. There was no cover out on the river in a boat, so the best thing to do was to pull up on the opposite shore and wait for the Sun to rise up once again in the sky and drive the orcs back underground.

Aragorn had many years of experience behind him now, even if he was a mortal man, and he was determined to use all of the valuable experience to keep the Fellowship intact for as long as possible.

Now the Fellowship was bunched around their small, smokeless campfire. Their youngest members, the hobbits Merry and Pippin, were already asleep, lying with their backs against reasonably flat-sided boulders as they slipped off into a deeper state of rest. Gimli the Dwarf was taking another look at the vial containing the three hairs from the head of Galadriel, the Lady of Light from Lothlórien and also beginning to doze off. Sam was making himself busy washing up some of the pots he had just used to make their evening meal and Frodo… was staring off into space, lost in his own private thoughts.

The burden of the Ring weighed ever heavier on Frodo's shoulders, and he knew that things were going to soon become far more complicated as they got closer to their goal.

Legolas the Elf was standing on a large outcropping of rocks nearby, which he had scaled with next to no effort whatsoever. His bow was in his hand and he was peering out into the darkness around them. His Elf eyes and senses were both extremely keen, making him an ideal lookout, but that was not the only problem. Throughout seemingly random parts of the day, he had been getting a small sensation of dread running up his spine. The magic of Elves allowed them to sense things which mortals could not… such as approaching dangers.

And Legolas was not happy. He too had long ago learned to trust his instincts, and though he could not sense anything at the moment he remained wary nonetheless.

And Legolas had not been the only one. Though neither of them had the senses of an Elf, both Boromir and Aragorn had felt slightly uneasy during the day as they moved down the river. There had been an abnormal number of crows above the river today, and while the majority of crows were not servants of Saruman, they did often tend to congregate in areas where they thought there might be the chance of a meal like say… on a battleground.

Boromir was standing by the river behind a large boulder and peering out at the water suspiciously… and with good reason. He had spotted something suspicious a couple of times when he glanced over his shoulder… like a splash of something disappearing out of sight as quickly as possible.

And, sure enough, a small log was now floating down the river towards them, and Boromir's eyes were fixed on said log. Though it was difficult to see, there were a pair of thin, gangly hands on the log, and some and a large pair of eyes that seemed to glow slightly silver in the darkness was peering over the top of them in their direction.

As soon as the eyes spotted Boromir staring at them, they and the hands disappeared behind the log, making it seem like nothing more than a harmless, floating piece of wood. But, before it did so, Aragorn had stepped over and got a glimpse of what Boromir was looking at.

"Gollum," he murmured to the other Man, confirming Boromir's suspicions. The group had spoken of Gollum and his obsession with the One Ring since before they had even left Rivendell when Gandalf had explained how the Ring had come to be in Frodo's possession in the first place.

"He has tracked us since Moria," Aragorn went on, watching as the log bumped against the far bank, which told them that their pursuer had slipped under the surface and swum off somewhere without them seeing it. "I had hoped we would lose him on the river. But he's too clever a waterman."

Boromir's lower jaw stiffened as his eyes searched the river surface for any sign of the elusive, wretched creature. "And he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts," he noted bitterly. "It will make the crossing even more dangerous."

Frodo's keen ears overheard Boromir's comment and he had to suppress the urge to shiver. The thought of Gollum, the horrible creature that his uncle Bilbo had described from his own adventure, following on behind the was bad enough. But he couldn't stand the thought of his the other Fellowship members being in unnecessary danger because of him. They all knew that they would have to cross to the Eastern shore eventually if they were to continue to Mordor, and that would be when they were in most danger from the hordes of orcs there.

Frodo's mind went back to the words of guidance given to him by Galadriel a few days ago. He knew what he had to do… but the thought of doing it scared him greatly. Yet the responsibility was his and his alone. And Gandalf had already fallen to his death trying to protect him. How many more would soon follow?

"Have some food, Mister Frodo," Sam piped up from behind him as he finish packing away the pots.

"No, Sam," Frodo murmured nearly automatically, still lost in his own thoughts.

"You haven't eaten anything all day," Sam protested. "And you're not sleeping either. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Frodo remained unresponsive, staring off in the direction of the river as if afraid that Gollum would leap out of the water and charge at him, although he was certain that even Gollum would not be so desperate for the Ring as to do that with two able-bodied Men, a sturdy Dwarf and a nimble Elf nearby. Sam frowned and moved closer, leaning down next to the hobbit who was technically his Master, since Sam had been in his employ as his gardener back in the Shire, but who was also his best friend.

"Mister Frodo," he tried again.

"I'm alright," Frodo said, a little more brusquely than he normally would and not looking at Sam even now.

"But you're not," Sam replied earnestly, a pleading look in his eyes. He had been worried about Frodo for some time now, and now it was beginning to become more evident than ever before as to the troubles he had on his mind.

"I'm here to help you," he went on. "I promised Gandalf that I would."

After a second, Frodo finally looked across at Sam, and there was a slightly haunted and equally lost look in his blue eyes and his expression, one which only increased Sam's worry. Frodo locked his eyes firmly with Sam's to make sure that his next words sank in, and he said, "You can't help me, Sam." He paused and swallowed, trying to endure the frown and hurt look that had appeared on Sam's face. "Not this time."

Sam's face fell even further and he had to resist the urge to bite his lip in anxiety. Frodo felt a pang in his chest at that look. He did not want to hurt his best friend's feelings. But he now firmly believed that the less that the others had to do with him… even Sam, especially Sam… then the easier it would be when the time came to follow through with Galadriel's advice for both him and for them. And, at the crux of the matter, he had the best interests of everyone in the Fellowship at heart.

"Get some sleep," Frodo advised, still feeling guilty as he looked away.

Sam stayed there for a moment, before he wordlessly got up and walked over to his sleeping mat. Frodo sighed internally as he listened to Sam lying down to try and do as Frodo had said, before he too lay down on his mat to try and get some rest, though his eyes remained open the whole time. Frodo had no wish to sleep tonight, not even trusting the safety of himself or his burden to the other members of the Fellowship if he were to nod off.

And there was a good reason for that.

One example of that reason was one of the two voices that he could still hear coming from the river. He listened in on what the two Men were saying to each other while attempting to feign sleep. It seemed the two of them were discussing what their next move would be, and disagreeing on it.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Boromir was saying, referring to the capital city of Gondor which he hailed from. "You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn replied immediately, sounding very sure of himself as he said it.

Frodo could not see Boromir's face, but he could picture his indignant expression just by the sound of his voice. "You were quick enough to trust the Elves. Have you so little faith in your own people?"

Aragorn did not respond, and it seemed that Boromir had managed to hit a sore spot in the other Man's heart. He quickly pressed on earnestly, trying to assure the Dúnedain Ranger. "Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in Men. But you will not see that."

Aragorn still didn't say anything and appeared momentarily lost in a thought of his own, and the eavesdropping Frodo had a fairly good idea of what that might be. So did Boromir, because when Aragorn turned to walk back to the main camp, the Gondorian grabbed him by the shoulder of the cloak given to him by the Lothlórien Elves and pulled him back.

"You are afraid!" he accused, his voice rising in anger and frustration. "All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of _what_ you are."

He then released his grip on Aragorn's shoulder quickly. To someone unfamiliar with Aragorn, Boromir's accusations might have confused them. But they made perfect sense to Frodo. Aragorn had been born as a Ranger of the North, but that had never been his birthright. He was a descendent of Isildur, the last known King of Gondor. This made him Isildur's Heir to the throne, a path and power which Aragorn had never wanted to take, preferring to stay in the wild and live the near-solitary life of a ranger.

Perhaps Boromir was right. Perhaps Aragorn was afraid of the responsibility that being a King would demand. He was a natural leader, as evidenced by how quickly he had taken over the leadership after Gandalf had died to guide the Fellowship onwards, but being a King would surely demand more than that. Aragorn had not known of his birthright until he had reached the age of twenty, raised in the Elven city of Rivendell to be safe from those who would wish to break the line of Kings for good.

Aragorn did not want to be the King. It was as plain and simple as that. But others had been long pressing upon him that it was his destiny. Aragorn had resisted such claims for years now, and yet those who made them were still insistent. It was certainly a lot of pressure on him.

Aragorn swiftly ended the argument with the rather harshly spoken words:- "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," before he turned around decisively to walk back to the camp. Boromir glared after him, but made no further attempt to persuade him, instead just following him back after a minute or so.

Aragorn's aversion to going to Minas Tirith stemmed not only from his aversion to going to the city which held the throne he was supposed to sit on. Both Frodo and Aragorn knew that Boromir had other things on his mind than getting Aragorn there.

The One Ring currently around Frodo's neck was not just some little trinket created by Sauron. It wasn't even merely a powerful magical item. It had a will of its own, and part of Sauron's very soul and even some of his blood was contained within the Ring. It had the ability to reach out to the hearts of others and warp them to its will, draw evil towards it and make who it managed to gain power over do what it wanted them to do.

Boromir had tried to pick up and take the Ring from practically the moment he had seen it. And though he had been a faithful member of the Fellowship all this time, there had been more than one moment where he had gotten close to the Ring and displayed uncharacteristic traits that indicated he wished to possess it… a sure sign that the Ring was trying to take hold of him.

He had even picked it up after Frodo had dropped it on the mountain of Caradhras though that time he had managed to resist its effects and give it back. Though it had clearly been quite difficult for him to do. And now, as they grew closer to Mordor, he was becoming more surly and insistent that they head for Minas Tirith that ever, as well as sending dark looks Frodo's way every now and then. Looks of jealousy.

Combine that with the fact that Boromir's father – Denethor, the Steward of Gondor who currently sat on Aragorn's throne – had expressly sent Boromir to Rivendell specifically to bring the Ring back to Gondor in the first place made it abundantly clear to both of them what was on his mind.

And that was why Frodo was not going to get any sleep. Boromir was already partially in the grip of the Ring. Who was to say that some of the others were not also falling under its effects in a less obvious manner than the Gondorian. He had no way of knowing.

As Boromir settled down and closed his eyes, Aragorn clambered up onto the rocks to join Legolas on lookout duty for a while, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings for any sign of approaching danger while they let the rest of the camp sleep.

"What are we to do if that Gollum creature does alert the enemy to our location?" Legolas murmured quietly to his friend.

"Not to worry," Aragorn whispered back. "With the road I have in mind to get us to Mordor, the orcs of the eastern shore should hopefully not be too much of a problem, even if they are aware of our presence there."

Legolas nodded, a wry expression on his face. "And I suppose that it will prove a real challenge to us once we pass through it as well."

"More than likely," Aragorn admitted. "But at least we are unlikely to meet with any problems with the enemy for a while."

Legolas said nothing more, and merely continued to survey the wilderness around them while Aragorn did the same, the latter occasionally glancing back down towards Boromir to make sure that he was asleep, which he did indeed appear to be, and also towards Frodo. Aragorn felt a rush of affection for the little hobbit in his charge. The poor Ringbearer had been through so much since setting out from Rivendell. Getting stabbed by both a Morgul Blade at the hands of a Nazgûl and a giant spear from a Cave Troll, as well as being grabbed in the tentacles of an enormous Kraken was more than just about anyone could claim to have survived.

Aragorn could only hope the journey would get easier for Frodo.

Yet he knew that the chances of that being the case were miniscule to nil.

And so, the Elf and Man kept up their silent visual. Aragorn occasionally dozed in the knowledge that Legolas would be keeping watch. Elves did not need sleep, though they did sometimes require a brief period in a torpor-like state after heavy exertion.

And, during one of Aragorn's infrequent dozes several hours into the night, Legolas' head suddenly snapped up with eyes wide, as his Elven senses tweaked at his mind. As a Sindar Elf, he was not as versed in the ways of the world and its deep powers and magic as other kinds of Elf, but this time he had suddenly felt something… strange. Something different and something completely new to him.

He had no idea what it was, or whether it was good or bad, and for that reason he did not deign to waken Aragorn and let him know.

But one thing he did know was that something, somewhere, had just happened that might well change the fate of everything within Middle Earth. And whatever this strange event was, its impact on the people and the land of Middle Earth was sure to be extremely large in many different ways. Again, he could not say for better or for worse, but whatever the case, he could only hope for the former.

* * *

Legolas was not the only one to sense the sudden change. Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood had sensed the potential changes that were beginning to occur only yesterday. It had been faint, but it had nevertheless been there and enough to make her check her Mirror to see what it could possibly mean.

Even she did not rightly know what she had made out in the Mirror that day… only that whatever it was, the Mirror was telling her that it spelled hope for the future of everything that sided with the Light.

Now, she was reclined in a seat woven from tree roots close to her mirror, waiting for a sign that would let her know that this new development was closer to occurring. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be in a deep meditation-like state, as if transcending her mind to see much farther than her eyes would allow her to into the corners of Middle Earth. Galadriel was incredibly powerful, and she did indeed see things far beyond the borders of her woods.

And then, at the exact same time as Legolas, she felt it, and whatever it was caused her eyes to open immediately. It had felt like a ripple in the entire structure of Middle Earth, as if the very air was reacting to it, and she could sense the future changing right there on the spot. It was not enough to determine whether victory against Sauron was assured or not and it was more than likely that it would never be assured until the moment the Ring was thrown into the fires of Mount Doom.

She knew that it was time to check her Mirror once again, so she rose from her throne and strode silently over to the Mirror to fill it smoothly with water once more. As before, a second figure in white robes was quick to join her as she stood over the basin to peer into the images that it chose to show.

Last time she had seen only one image, an image of a strange red lizard-like creature with the yellow scarves and the V shaped forehead and jagged mouth, and that was what she saw this time too. Though, this time instead of it just standing still as it had done before her, she now saw it leaping through the air with a large, strangely-shaped staff gripped in one hand to slam it over the head of a large orc. And then then image changed, showing a swelter of other images that flitted by so fast that the average humanoid would not be able to track them.

But Galadriel was far from normal and she saw much in the space of half a minute. A metallic beetle-like creature blasting at something with what looked like waves of air from its chest. An orange wolf firing spiralling spikes from its forehead. A small golden creature composed of five points spinning into the neck of another orc. A much larger lizard with greyish skin and horns on its head charging through some underbrush with a roar. A black-winged humanoid firing green bolts of energy from one arm. A tall woman with a snake for one arm wielding a sword that seemed too big to be plausible in the other. A smaller, more Elf-like woman with leaf-like wings lashing out with a lasso of flowers to ensnare something.

And more besides. Countless images of many different creatures were flashing before Galadriel's eyes, such a small green drake-like lizard, an even smaller turtle like thing, a yellow armoured creature that shot through the air faster than any bird, and a much larger bird covered in blue armour that could match that speed. An enormous plated reptile firing smoke from its back. A bizarre, four-winged dragon swinging a large double-ended spear. More and more images kept coming and coming and coming, and Galadriel looked until she saw no more.

She looked up again towards the other figure, who said, "What did you see this time?"

Galadriel paused for a moment before answering. "I am unsure. But I maintain that whatever these images show, they mean a new hope for Middle Earth. A hope that we have long been lacking. Ilúvatar is awake, and he has no more desire to see Middle Earth come to ruin than we."

"Then what is to be done?" the figure asked. "Any hope that we can find we must grasp with both hands at this stage."

Galadriel closed her eyes. "The Mirror has revealed your path to me," she confirmed. "The path that you must take before you find your own way to guide the upcoming War in the South, though the event which is occurring at this moment shall affect all the corners of Middle Earth. You must hasten to the Brown Lands with all speed, for there, you shall meet… a being who may one day rule the fate of many in our world. And his name… is Shoutmon."

* * *

And there were others besides Galadriel that had sensed the ripple through fabric of the world that was already wreaking great change upon the lands. In Rivendell, Elrond Halfelven had looked up sharply from where he was consulting one of the ancient texts of Elf Lore within the extensive library of his home.

Elrond was also a powerful Elf in his own right. Not as strong as Galadriel by a distance, but still extremely well versed in the magic of nature, particularly water. And yet, despite his power, he would be one of the first to admit that he believed there was little to no hope left for Middle Earth at this stage. Its lands and its peoples were divided and alone, and would shortly make easy pickings for the likes of Sauron and Saruman and their numerous powerful minions.

And now, he frowned? What was this latest development in the fate of their world that he was sensing now?

Did this mean that hope truly was lost?

Or did it mean that there was a glimmer on the horizon after all?

* * *

A _third_ white-robed figure was having a similar reaction. Deep in the centre of the tower of Orthanc, which lay at the heart of the fortress of Isengard, Saruman the White was reclined on his stone throne and his eyes also shot open as the swell in the fabric of the world blew through him like some sort of invisible cannonball.

Saruman had long been a force for good in Middle Earth until recent times, where he had fallen under the spell of Sauron through the use of the pair of Palantír that the two of them had, which had allowed Sauron to extend his influence from one to the other and corrupt Saruman's heart and mind… which was an extremely commendable feat as Saruman was not only incredibly powerful, but in his days as leader of the White Council he had also been exceptionally wise and extremely willing to do what he could to aid the people of Middle Earth, as per the mission the Wizards, or Istari, had been given when they set out from Valinor many centuries ago.

But those days were now over, and Saruman sat upon his throne now with his mind as equally bent on conquering Middle Earth under the banner of the White Hand as Sauron was at doing the same under the banner of the Red Eye.

He was already taking things to a whole new level, defying his old love of nature completely. The trees that had filled he grounds of Isengard had all been torn down and in their place, huge pits and caverns now permeated deep into the ground, each one connected some distance below the surface and filled with wooden walkways, gangplanks and ladders to allow the orcs now in Saruman's employ to move about them with efficiency. They were bathed in the deep orange lights of the fires that were being produced from the wood of the dead trees, fuelling the growth of Saruman's industry as orcs hammered on their anvils to create numerous weapons and thick armour.

Saruman had recently started searching for more wood by ripping up the trees in the neighbouring Forest of Fangorn. Tree after tree, acre after acre, fell at the crude axes of his labouring orcs, all to feed Saruman's evil, twisted campaign of conquest so that the numerous new forms of evil he was creating in the pits would soon be armed and ready to march to war.

For Saruman had created a brand new breed of orc specifically for this war. They were called the Uruk-Hai, and while Sauron had been the first to breed this more advanced race of orc, Saruman had gone and made even further improvements to their design, including greater physical strength and endurance, a more upright stature and resistance to sunlight. They were, effectively, a cross-breed between Orc and Men, and they were being spawned in the pits below in their hundreds and immediately outfitted for battle.

Just recently, Saruman had sent out a large party of Uruk-Hai, led by the first and perhaps the most ferocious of the entire breed, known as Lurtz, to hunt down the elusive Fellowship of the Ring and kill all its members except the Halflings, who were all to be brought back to him alive.

Saruman could hear the raucous calls of the orcs far below even from here, but that was not the thing that was concerning him right now. He rose quickly from his throne and he strode across the room to the pedestal in its centre, which was covered in a black leather sheet. Even he had cause to feel nervousness after what he had just sensed. He had also been in Middle Earth for a very long time now and yet he had never felt anything remotely like that before. As if the very fabric of reality had suddenly warped for a split second to introduce something unfamiliar.

He whipped off the leather sheet to reveal the large black sphere underneath it that was the Palantír. It almost appeared to have a glowing red centre and cloud-like substances floating within, as if covering up the secrets of Middle Earth with them until someone attempted to use the stone to pierce through those clouds and discover more about their world.

Saruman raised a hand over it and began to shift his fingers about, shutting his eyes as he focused his energy into the stone to try and see what might have caused the disturbance in the world. But, as of yet, though he searched for several minutes, he could not find anything that might have even remotely caused such a strange ripple in everything… and change in the balance of power that he simply could not put his finger on. Unfortunately for him, the Palantír did not allow him to see into the future, only into the present, and even then he could only see vague outlines of major events. And that present was devoid of anything that might have caused such a something.

Which might mean that this had something to do with the Valar themselves. Or possibly even higher than them.

Saruman turned his metaphorical gaze towards the distant mountain-encircled land of Mordor, flowing up towards the dark tower of Barad-dûr which stretched high like a colossal spire seeking to pierce the sky and kill the Sun and the Moon and all other forms of light. And, sitting nestled between the two topmost pinnacles on the tower was the enormous form of Sauron himself.

The image of Sauron filled the Palantír, a huge expanse of searing and rolling flames that were warped into the shape of a colossal, slanted Eye. It had no other features to it except for the huge, black slit down the middle that represented the pupil of the eyes of ordinary creatures, but that was all it needed, for even at this distance Saruman could feel the intense malice peeling off the Eye like wisps of smoke from its flames, even though those flames were not actually generating any smoke. It was a nigh ethereal shape and certainly was not solid… but it still contained absolutely gigantic amounts of power and evil.

This was a being that Saruman had no desire to cross, let alone the humungous armies that he had at his disposal.

"Sauron, Lord of the Earth," Saruman intoned in his deep, distinctive voice. "I have felt a strange disruption in the fabric of the universe. I believe something new may be on the horizon, though I cannot tell whether it be beneficial or detrimental to our cause and the destruction of the old world in favour of our new one. I assume that you too felt this disturbance, my Lord."

The Eye certainly had no mouth and no way of speaking externally, but its voice, even deeper, hissing and dripping with evil, filled Saruman's head immediately and seemed to make his every nerve seize up just to process what it had said, simply _Yes._

"Do you have any further clues than I as to what it might have been?"

_No._

"Then how do you suggest we proceed for the time being, my Lord?"

_Proceed as planned for now,_ Sauron growled. _We shall crush Middle Earth regardless of outside interference. Keep an eye on the lands around you for any further signs of this disturbance._

Saruman believed with every iota of his being that Sauron was telling the truth, and that they _would_ crush the forces of Men, Elf, Dwarf and any other race that was foolish enough to stand in their way. There was a time where Saruman might have believed that the West stood a chance of victory… but no longer. He had seen the strength of Sauron's forces and his unassailable fortress and land of Barad-dûr and Mordor, which had allowed Sauron to take hold of him in the first place.

He now firmly believed that anything Sauron told him was the utmost truth. Sauron was akin to a God. Sauron was undefeatable, and so Saruman was wise to join with the winning side. He truly believed that. And every rational sense of logic had been twisted out of his body by Sauron a long, long time ago.

"As you wish, my Lord," Saruman nodded.

_When the time comes, we must respond to this latest development. I cannot sense its origins, but I believe that has originated from the Void itself. And possibly even beyond that._

"Then if it is to aid us, we shall utilise it best to further crush the world of Men and the other races of Middle Earth," Saruman acknowledged. "And if it does not aid us, then we shall overcome it just the same. For none have the strength to stand up to the might of Mordor and Isengard. Our victory over the lands of Middle Earth is assured even before we begin our assault."

The flames that composed Sauron's eye seemed to ignite into a more intensive blazes at Saruman's words. Sauron had made many attempts over the ages to take over Middle Earth and each one of them had ended in failure thus far, though victory had almost been assured for him each time, only to be repulsed at the last second. This time, there would be no mistakes. Middle Earth was weak and this time, it would crumble beneath his figurative hand.

As soon as he gained back his One Ring… he would be unstoppable. Quite literally. The Elven Rings would finally fall under his possession and with the Elves finally subdued, Middle Earth would fall all around them. There was nowhere to run for any of them, not even to Valinor itself.

He would make sure of that this time.

* * *

Shoutmon groaned and reached a hand up to grasp his head, which was pounding as if his brain had suddenly decided to grow an extra heart on the side. He felt like he had hit it hard against something, except there was no soreness from the impact.

"Ugh, what happened?" he murmured to himself, before he suddenly remembered and his eyes snapped open. The Code Crown! The Code Crown had suddenly acted up out of nowhere and… and… then all the beams of light in the Great Hall and the spinning and the flash of light. The flash of light had been the last thing that he remembered and now… now…now…

Shoutmon finally realised what he was looking at and he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was… nothing. There was, almost literally absolutely nothing around him except complete whiteness. He turned around and he could only see whiteness again. In any direction he looked he could not see anything at all. Not features of anything. No rocks, no trees, no buildings, no objects of any kinds and no other life forms. Just… whiteness.

And that was not the only thing either. He appeared to be floating. Yes, floating. He looked down at his feet and wiggled them slightly, extending his claws downwards in a completely vain attempt to touch something solid. Curiously enough, it didn't feel like he was floating. He certainly didn't feel weightless. He felt exactly the same as he always had whenever he had had both feet firmly planted on the ground… except for the fact that he could not feel anything under his feet.

His microphone was still in his hand. At least that was still there. But apart from that there was seemingly endless expanses of nothing around him. Certainly no sign of his friends or his castle of anything that remotely looked like his world… including the Code Crown itself. It had all just gone.

A horrible thought hit him all of a sudden. Taiki had spoken of how Bagramon had sent him and the rest of the resisting Digimon who were still alive after Shoutmon had sacrificed himself to try and destroy the Dark Stone to a space between the dimensions where they would float endlessly without time or space or company and never seeing anything every again as they were surrounded by nothing but emptiness. They had been saved from having to remain there by Akari and Zenjirou, who were wielding the powers of the DigiMemories of WarGreymon and Examon.

But… could this be the same thing? Was this… emptiness… what Taiki and the others would have been forced to endure? It seemed more desolate than Prison Land had been after Shoutmon's soul had been separated from his body and sent there by DarkKnightmon.

But then… suddenly… Shoutmon could hear something. He still could not see anything but he could definitely hear something that sounded like… was that music?

Yes, it was definitely music. Soft, angelic music that fell upon his ears like the most delicate of notes and yet filled with a power that was like nothing that Shoutmon had ever felt before at the same time. Whatever this music was it was almost… heavenly? Far more so than any of the music that he had heard even in the Heaven Zone of the Digital World which Lucemon had tried to attack. He could hear the distinct strumming of instruments that made sounds unlike anything he had ever heard before.

He couldn't hope to identify what was being played, what language the faint singing was in or who was doing the singing… and yet it seemed to surround him and fill him up with a strange sense of satisfaction that was unlike anything he had ever experience before in his life.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is someone there?"

Nobody answered him and the music went on uninterrupted. Shoutmon scowled and was about to bring his microphone to his mouth so he could yell even louder when suddenly the whiteness changed around him slightly. It was only now that he gained a strange sense of motion, but suddenly he could see various vague colours and shapes shooting past him on either side, so ethereal that they were like figments of his imagination and definitely didn't look solid or real in any way.

It was as if he was surrounded by stars, and up ahead there was another bright light, just as strong as the one the Code Crown had given off before. But he didn not allow himself to flinch his eyes away from this one as he plunged through the starry not-landscape around him and straight into the light, until he was once again surrounded by whiteness. Only now the music was stronger than ever, and seemed to be both close and distant at the same time, as if the singers were standing within a few metres… but several miles away as well.

It made no sense to Shoutmon's brain either.

And then… suddenly, a voice filled Shoutmon's consciousness, seeming to come through his ears and within his chest at the same time, and Shoutmon's eyes shot open in astonishment, feeling the power emanating from behind each and every syllable as if it was hitting him in the stomach and yet not hurting at all.

"Shoutmon – King of the Digital World," it said. "I bid you welcome. You have passed safely through the Void and have arrived here at last."

"What?" Shoutmon blinked, looking around wildly for a potential source to the voice, but not seeing any. Strangely enough he should be filled with suspicion at circumstances like this, but he felt completely at ease in the voice's presence. Yet, that did not stop him from madly trying to find out who was doing the speaking. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"Relax," the voice said. And Shoutmon found himself doing just that almost automatically, which later bemused him completely. His microphone held loosely in one hand, Shoutmon continued to look around, yet the voice remain an elusive mystery.

"Where am I?" he repeated again. "What's going on? This doesn't look like a place in the Digital World."

"That is because it is not," the voice said, and Shoutmon could tell that it seemed to be a male voice, but it was gently and soothing and… divine. Not just any random male voice. This was a voice with weight behind it. "You are no longer in the Digital World which you rule. You are no longer in any world which you have been in before. As I said, you have passed through the Void to this location, and are now at the threshold of the Timeless Halls."

"That… really doesn't make any sense to me," Shoutmon murmured after a moment. "Is there any chance I could ask for some clarification?"

"In good time," the voice said. "But perhaps it would be best if I were to introduce myself first. I am sure you have many questions for me, Shoutmon, and I shall answer a few of them. But the answers to some of your other questions, you will have to find out for yourself."

"Huh?" Shoutmon blinked. But before he could ask for clarification again, his attention was distracted by something off to his left which made him whirl around in the place that he was floating. He watched in amazement as some kind of strange orange mist-like substance seemed to pool out of nowhere and rise high upwards until it stretched from white horizon to white horizon in no time flat. It seemed to roll and congeal around itself and it was filled with twinkling lights like yet more stars. It was one of the most astonishing and beautiful things that Shoutmon had ever seen.

And, in the centre of the misty orangeness there was a section that appeared to be thicker than the rest. It looked human in shape… but that was about the only thing that Shoutmon could tell about it. It had no other distinguishing features that set it apart from the rest of the orange substance than that.

"O…kay," Shoutmon murmured. "If this is some bizarre hallucination then it's a very convincing one."

"You are not hallucinating, Shoutmon," the voice said, and this time it seemed more directional, as if it was definitely coming from the man-like shape in the orange cloud line. "I am quite real."

"Then who are you?" Shoutmon asked.

"I am known by many names throughout various different lands of the universe I oversee," the shape said. "Many call me the One, for I was the first to emerge from the Void and created the universe known as Eä. But most of the peoples of that universe refer to me as Eru Ilúvatar, the All-Father."

"That… kinda raises more questions than it answers," Shoutmon frowned, staring up at the shape. He then shook his head slightly and said, "Look, I don't know where I am, or who you are or what's going on here… not really. But I don't have the time to hang around. I… I need to find out what happened. One moment a… a powerful object known as the Code Crown was acting up and doing something weird and the next thing I know, I'm here. I need to find my friends and get back somehow."

"I am aware of your Code Crown and what it can do in your universe," Ilúvatar intoned. "And I am also aware of exactly what happened back there within your Great Hall. After all, the people of Eä refer to me as their Supreme God as well, and you would not be here outside the Timeless Halls unless I had not summoned you here myself."

Shoutmon stopped all motion and stared up at the shape. "Say what?" he cried. "You summoned me here? You… you were the one who made the Code Crown suddenly act up like that?"

"No, I did not," Ilúvatar seemed to chuckle. "I did not such thing. It is not my place to control what happens to other universes besides the one that I helped to create. And that universe is Eä. You can hear the music coming from all around you. Those are the Ainur, Holy Ones who were born of my thoughts and are the first and mightiest beings which I have created. It was their music that aided me in creating my own world… my universe, as they wove what would be put into it. Each of them knows only a part of my mind, and I am the one who breathed life into the visions that the Ainur helped me to weave.

"There are many other universes out there in the vastness of the omniverse, Shoutmon. I will not interfere in the events of those that I did not create myself… unless, of course, that universe reaches out to me and asks for my assistance, as yours did."

"I am only getting more and more confused," Shoutmon murmured. "Alright, I understand the concept behind what you just said and… well, I suppose it is an honour to talk to a God, although I did once meet someone who called himself an Earth-God and was certainly undeserving of the title. But I fail to see what any of this has to do with me."

"Everything," Ilúvatar chuckled. "It may not be obvious at first, but all of this does pertain to you. For you see, until recently I have been in slumber, and the Ainur have been keeping watch on events within my universe. But, as ever, things have begun to take a turn for the worse, and now I have reawakened. And I do not like what I see down in my universe. Evil is stirring there and is growing ever stronger, and yet I must allow the Free Peoples who live in it to lead their own lives, free from too much of my interference.

"I have already committed one act that will help to grant hope to the people of Eä and guide them to a future of light that I wish for them to have. But even now, nothing is certain and I set about for a way of providing further aid to my Children without making too many direct adjustments to the events down there, for everything that happens must have a greater purpose."

"Er…" Shoutmon murmured. "I'm still struggling to see the big picture here, Mister Eru. And I really hope you don't mind me hurrying you up but I'm afraid that I really need you to get to the point."

"Then fear not, for the point is this," Ilúvatar seemed to chuckle. "Even I was surprised when, suddenly, I felt something that I had never sensed before – a strange presence that was calling out for help from a completely different universe into the Void. I naturally investigated and I discovered that you Code Crown was sending out a message. A message asking if there was anyone out there who needed help.

"You see, Shoutmon, your Code Crown could sense your doubts about your ability as King of your world, and it decided to set out and do something about it. And that was how it was able to contact me. Your Code Crown wishes for you to discover for yourself whether you are truly worthy of being the King. In the previous struggle in your world, you were aided by a boy named Taiki and several others who proved instrumental to your victories."

"Yeah," Shoutmon nodded. "Yeah, we were."

"And you now feel that Taiki was a better leader than yourself," Ilúvatar stated matter-of-factly.

"Well… yeah…" Shoutmon nodded.

"Then there is only one way for you to truly allay those doubts of yours, Shoutmon. You must fight. You must fight and lead your subjects in another war, and this time Taiki and the others must not be by your side. If you can step up to the plate without your Generals by your side to think of the strategies for you and lend you're their power then you can truly call yourself a King. If you fail, then perhaps your doubts are accurate and well-founded after all.

"And that's where I came in. I needed a way of aiding my people without too much more direct interference and your dilemma proved to be the perfect solution to that problem. The Code Crown and I made an agreement with one another in an instant. It would expel you and your comrades out of your universe and into the Void, and I would guide all of you here and send you into my beleaguered world. There, you must take up arms once again to vanquish the evil yourselves."

Shoutmon's temper flared up despite the calming aura of this Ilúvatar figure and he scowled. "You what?" he growled. "Did I hear that right? The Code Crown and you decided to fling me from my universe without my consent? What gives either of you the right to do such a thing, even if you are Gods, or immense conduits for the Digital World?"

"Your anger at this situation is well-founded," Ilúvatar admitted. "For, in a manner of speaking, you _are_ being manipulated here. But despite your lack of consent, both the Code Crown and I have only your best interests at heart, as well as the interests of the Free People of my world. Soon, you shall enter Eä and be sent to the land of Middle Earth, where you shall either rise to prove your strength as the King of your own world through combat and leadership, or you shall fall as you believed you might. You might seem angry now, but in time, you will come to understand that the both of us are only doing this because, as I said before, everything that happens must have a purpose. And this is yours."

"And what makes you so sure of that?" Shoutmon growled. "What if I…"

"Besides," Ilúvatar suddenly cut him off. "If the information I have received is correct, was your friend Taiki not dragged into _your_ world against his will so that he could fight against the Bagra Army? This is essentially the same thing… except now it is happening to you."

_That_ shut Shoutmon up extremely quickly as he realised with a thud that Ilúvatar was right. This was exactly what had happened to Taiki, Akari and Zenjirou when Omnimon had given Taiki his Xros Loader, allowing him to save Shoutmon, before all three had been flung into the Digital World and trapped there.

And they had helped him all the same. Would taking the indignant road right now be selfish of him?

Before he could reply, Ilúvatar said, "And now, it is time."

"Huh?" Shoutmon asked, but before he could say anything else, things began to fade into existence all around him. He started as Ballistamon suddenly appeared on his left and Dorulumon on his right, the both of them appearing to be sound asleep or perhaps out cold. One by one the rest of the Xros Heart United Army also appeared – Starmon, Beelzemon, Sparrowmon, Mervamon, Lillymon, Greymon, MailBirdramon, Deckerdramon and all the others right down to the last Pickmon, PawnChessmon, Gaossmon and Bombmon. Even Spadamon and Lunamon were there. And every one of them seemed to be in the same sleep-state.

"Guys!" Shoutmon cried.

"Blessings be upon all of you," Ilúvatar said, and before Shoutmon could do or say anything else, all of them seemed to turn to pure light energy and shoot downwards, smashing through another dimensional barrier and plunging into the universe below.

A universe that was not their own.

* * *

Well, looks like the crossovers are both finally set to take place after four long chapters. At least some of the characters from one of the universes have now met and conversed with some of the characters from the other one. Things can only pick up from here can't they? Well, the next few chapters still have a couple of explanations and technical stuff to get through but at least the crossover itself has finally begun. It might be a slower start than the last story, but it's still all kinda necessary.

* * *

Next time…

Shoutmon wakes up to find himself all alone in a strange world. He has no idea where he is, where he's supposed to be going and, for the most part, what he is supposed to be doing her. Fortunately, someone will shortly be along to explain things to him in more detail. A man in white.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 5 : Mithrandir**


	5. Mithrandir

Hello again, everybody. Here I am once more with my next update of this chapter, where the two universes finally meet one another in person. There's still no action and there will be a few things that have already been explained being re-explained for Shoutmon's benefit, but I still hope that you enjoy the meeting between these two iconic characters from the two different sagas. Should be fun. XD

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 5:- Mithrandir**

* * *

The first thing that Shoutmon heard when he regained consciousness was a low, monotonous sound that seemed to be coming from right next to his ears. After a couple of moments of bleary coherence he realised that it was himself making a low groaning noise. And he had every reason to groan, because it felt like every part of his body had been bruised beyond belief. His head ached. His belly ached. His limbs ached. Even the claws on his feet seemed to ache, and they shouldn't be able to ache.

It felt like he had just been ploughed straight through the side of a mountain by some giant colossal force. His nose especially seemed to have taken the brunt of whatever was causing him to feel like this, and it even felt slightly bent to one side, although that could just have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

Eventually, after lying there on his stomach and groaning for several long moments he decided to try and move, opening his eyes to try and get a good look around him. The first thing he saw was dried, yellowish grass and thin, brown earth right in front of his eyes, and as he pulled backwards to try and have a look around, his face was refused to budge.

It seemed that, somehow, his face had managed to become slightly wedged into the ground, the horn on the end of his nose catching against the loam and preventing him from lifting his head. He could still breathe out of the sides of his mouth, which was fortunate indeed as it meant that he had not suffocated, but now he had to focus on getting his face out of this not only ridiculous, but embarrassing situation.

Not for the first time, Shoutmon hoped that nobody was around to see this as he lifted up his aching arms and braced himself against the ground before heaving upwards with all of his considerable strength. It did not take him long before he popped free like a cork from a bottle and he also brought up a considerable amount of soil and seven a large rock that his nose had gotten wedged under, all of which went flying into the air as Shoutmon came crashing onto his back in an extremely undignified manner.

Shoutmon groaned again, eyes closed and aching all over as he lifted up one hand to rub his sore nose. He felt something soft and rather slimy underneath one finger and he blinked opening his eyes to investigate as he pulled away a small pink thing that had been hanging off the ridge between his horn and his face. The pink thing – which was, unbeknownst to Shoutmon, a worm – wriggled wildly as it hung from Shoutmon's grip. Shoutmon coughed and tossed the small creature aside, having no business with it.

Shoutmon then check down at himself and at the area around where he had been lying. It seemed that he had created a large furrow in the ground as he had skidded across it, which grew deeper the closer it got to a large boulder, which was lying on what appeared to be its side, as could be told by the fact Shoutmon's furrow led up to the dip in the ground where it had once been and the side facing Shoutmon was covered in soil. It seemed that Shoutmon had slammed straight into it and _completely uprooted it_ from the spot where it had been lying for who knew how many years. And the boulder was at least ten times _larger_ than Shoutmon.

"Wow," he murmured. "Lillymon's right. I really do have a hard heart."

As he continued to rub his sore nose, the image of Lillymon hanging in a dream-like state and surrounded by whiteness flashed into his mind and, suddenly, Shoutmon remembered everything. "Lillymon! Guys!" he shouted as he surged to his feet, fighting not to yell as his muscles screamed in protest at him. Everything was flowing through Shoutmon's mind now. He could see the whiteness that had surrounded him, hear the distant singing, see all of his friends hanging around him as still as death and seemingly unconscious.

He could see the enormous orange mist-like substance that had expanded in front of him, filled with stars and a large portion of it thickening into the shape of a man. Ilúvatar, it had called itself, and it was some sort of God figure of another world if he had interpreted what he had been telling him correctly. A God figure responsible for pulling him and his friends out of his Digital World and into…

Holy crap!

Shoutmon had been completely pulled out of his Digital World!

He took several wild looks around him, but he could not see very much. He appeared to have landed in some kind of trough in the ground and he was surrounded on almost all sides by large walls of rock and yellow grass was the only thing that he could see besides the boulder within those walls.

Shoutmon quickly took several steps forward, but paused wavering slightly as he tried to find his balance after his legs protested at the movement. Shoutmon couldn't blame them. After all, they had just been ploughed through the ground after being dropped from what was apparently some kind of Heaven-like area and all the way out of the sky. Though Shoutmon couldn't remember anything after he and the others had been sent downwards so he had no way of knowing exactly how far he'd fallen, or if he'd fallen at all and just appeared skidding through the ground.

Shoutmon lifted his arm and flexed his fingers to the air, as he used his other hand to push his waist forwards from behind so that he could stand up straight, his body clicking in protest as it did so. A small light appeared in the air above him and expanded outwards to form his trusty microphone, which was thankfully still with him, before it dropped down into his hand. Using it as a staff to support himself on, Shoutmon moved over towards the nearest rocky wall.

When he reached it he looked up and noted that it was not that high – possibly only three times taller than himself. Still, he knew that climbing it was going to be a pain. Digimon healed quickly and Shoutmon could already feel the aches in his body beginning to lessen, but it would still be a pain. Nevertheless, he had faced a lot worse in his time fighting alongside Taiki against the Bagra Army and so he narrowed his eyes and, without thinking, jumped straight up.

Shoutmon could jump surprisingly high for someone of his size and stature, and as he cleared the majority of the rock wall in one bound, he slammed his microphone into the rock, plunging the spiked base clean through it so it stuck out like a pole and then swinging off said pole to clear the rest of the rock wall with ease. He yanked out his microphone as he swung upwards and twisted in the air to land neatly on the top of the ledge he had just claimed in two seconds flat, microphone slamming into the ground decisively.

True to form, his body yelled at him, but he ignored it and pushed himself upwards and looked forwards, now seeing that he was standing on a ledge, and all he could see beyond it from this position was the sky. That quickly changed as he stepped forwards until he was stood at the edge of the ledge, his tow-claws practically hanging over the side as he stared out at the landscape around him.

It was then that Shoutmon truly felt that he was no longer in the Digital World. The Digital World had many unique locations, including seas and islands of gold, enormous canyons, woodlands, futuristic cities, volcanic plains and many more, and Shoutmon had certainly never been to all of them, not even after five years of being King. But, he was pretty sure that there was no area of the Digital World that looked quite like this, even if the scenery itself was unremarkable in comparison.

As far as Shoutmon could see, the area seemed barren and relatively desolate. There were plants and thorny looking bushes and the occasional tree, but all of them appeared to be dry, yellow and relatively lifeless. The grass grew in shoddy clumps all across the ground in every direction, and there were numerous large rocky mounts and outcroppings that stuck out at seemingly random intervals in every direction that Shoutmon chose to look, giving the landscape a patchwork appearance as if it was on many different levels.

Shoutmon himself was stood on the top of one of the largest of the rocky outcrops, and no matter which way he looked in any direction the only thing that he could make out was these rolling, dry, rocky plains that stretched from horizon to horizon all around him.

And worse still, there was no sign of any life down there at all. No sign of a village or some other civilisation, no sign of native animals or wildlife or nomads… and certainly no sign of any of his friends.

Shoutmon shielded his eyes from the searing sunlight as he scanned the plains before him visually as much as possible searching for any sign of his fellow Digimon before his head rotated upwards to look at the sky instead. He saw nothing and no-one and he gritted his teeth, yanking his yellow scarf with one hand to unravel it slightly from where it had become tangled around his neck.

But if this was not the Digital World then where was it? That Ilúvatar guy had said that he was going to be sent to a place called Eä. Was this it? Was this Eä? He hoped that that was another name for the Human World that lived alongside his own, but he someone severely doubted that. Wherever this place was, he was now a very long way from home.

A small part of him was also hoping that this was all some kind of obscure dream, but the receding aches in his body told him that this was not the case. He reached up and tapped his chest armour to make sure that it was not dented as he thought of his fall and to feel it under his fingers as if to check that it felt real. It did, as did the microphone in his hand and the ache in his head. This was far more real and far more complicated than a simple dream.

"Well," he growled to himself. "Isn't this just a fine load of crap that I've landed myself in."

He stood there, staring angrily out across the plains for a second, before he decided to vent his spleen in the old Shoutmon way. He threw out his arms and roared to the sky, letting out a huge, screaming bellow of frustration and anger as he let rip with all the emotion in his body at once, baring his teeth to the sky as he let rip with one enormous yell. Without pausing to breath even for a second, Shoutmon swung around and sprang towards an innocent boulder that was lying nearby, his blazing spirit filling the bulbous end of his microphone with power as he brought it crashing down on said boulder.

The entire boulder shattered into pieces under the sheer force of the blow that Shoutmon slammed into it, reducing it to gravel in the space of a second, but Shoutmon was not done. Plunging through the debris almost before it had the chance to obey gravity he sprang towards a smaller boulder and brought his fist back before sending his knuckles crashing into the stonework. Such a blow would have broken the hand and probably to whole arm of a human, but Shoutmon barely felt it and the boulder also fell into considerably smaller pieces and collapsed to the ground, several of them rolling over the edge of the outcropping and tumbling downwards in a miniature rockslide down the hill.

Shoutmon stood next to the remains of the rock for several seconds with his microphone brandished and his hand outstretched, a snarl of anger on his reptilian face.

But, after a couple of seconds, he just sagged and fell to one knee, propping himself up with his microphone like a staff once again.

What was he doing? He didn't have the right to overreact like this. Some of the last words that Ilúvatar had said to him now flashed through his mind once again:-

"_If the information I have received is correct, was your friend Taiki not dragged into your world against his will so that he could fight against the Bagra Army? This is essentially the same thing… except now it is happening to you."_

This was so very true. Taiki had certainly wanted to help him when he had found his melody dying in the Human World, but he not asked to be dragged into the Digital World as well. Neither had Akari and Zenjirou. They had just all been sucked into the portal that Omnimon had opened up and landed in the Green Zone and in the middle of a warzone – a place where no children their age really should have been in.

He could remember the initial fight alongside Taiki and the others vividly. Akari and Zenjirou had been adamant that their first priority was to get back home to their families as they did not belong in the Digital World, and while Taiki had been willing to help fight in the war he had also believed that getting his friends to safety was most important as they had not asked for this at all.

Shoutmon had been adamant that they stay as he had been certain Taiki was the only way he could become the Digimon King. He had done everything he could to try and get Taiki to change his mind – laying out the best foods they had, giving them a party, getting the Dondokomon to beat a tune while the Sunflowmon and Lillymon danced for the young ones and then, when that hadn't worked, begging.

Shoutmon realised that he had been quite selfish later on and extremely rude when Taiki had left regardless in trying to get the others to safety. Nevertheless, Shoutmon had charged out to save them when they had been put in danger and once Taiki fully understood the gravity of the threat that the Bagra Army posed he had decided to stay and fight for the Digital World almost immediately.

Akari and Zenjirou had still been reluctant. Akari, in particular, had wanted to find a way of going home throughout all of their travels. But the most important thing was that they had still all stayed behind to help in a fight that was very much not their own at that point and done their very best to help save the Digital World from the threat that Bagramon posed to it.

And now, here was Shoutmon, in an incredibly similar situation, where he had been sucked out of _his_ own world and into another world because apparently its inhabitants also needed help, and instead of thinking things through rationally like he was supposed to, the only thing that he could do was take out his frustrations on the rocks around him.

To him, this seemed like another reason why Taiki would have made a much better King than him.

After a moment of crouching there uselessly, his eyes snapped open again and he pushed himself to his feet. "Alright then, Shoutmon," he murmured to himself, not having anyone else to relay his thoughts to at this moment. "Now what do you do?"

He had no real answer to that, so he quickly ran over what he had just learned. "That Godly Ilúvatar guy said that the people of this world are under threat," he muttered as he strayed back over to the edge of the outcropping and looked out across the landscape again. "And that the Code Crown wants me to prove to myself that I can be a good King without Taiki while Ilúvatar wants me… wants us… to help the people to fight against this evil because he can't interfere himself. Huh. This is beginning to sound scarily like a parallel of what happened to Taiki, although Omnimon couldn't do things himself because he was little more than a small DigiMemory at the time instead of choosing not to."

He looked up at the sky again, half hoping that Sparrowmon, Beelzemon or MailBirdramon would be on the horizon and heading in his direction in the search of their fellow comrades from the air, but he could see nothing.

"Right," Shoutmon muttered. "First priority – find others. That much is obvious. But… well, I guess that if the Code Crown and this God guy have chosen me like Omnimon chose Taiki…" he paused for a moment and then hefted his microphone with a grim look on his face, "…then I guess I have to help them. But… I'm going to need to find them first too."

Shoutmon stepped closer to the edge, peering down at the steep drop down to the plains on the other side.

"I guess that means that there's only one real option," he sighed. "Start walking. And hope that I go in the right direction."

Shoutmon stood as tall as he could for a moment, planting his microphone against the ground and his scarves briefly billowing out behind him as he took in one, long, deep inhale as he allowed the moment to sink in. He was going off on a brand new escapade as of this moment and he had no idea where it might lead him. It might do him good. It might make him fall.

But, whatever the case, it was a new chance for adventure and he was going to attempt to grab it with both hands, whether or not he did deserve to be the King of his Digital World. He'd try his best to make Taiki and the others proud of him, no matter where this led him.

And then, with no particular destination in mind, Shoutmon bounded off the top of the rocks and dropped down a significant distance to a ledge below, landing smoothly as the last of the aches and pains in his body from his rough landing began to melt away. Springing off the rock immediately and bounding down to another ledge, and then another, and then another with barely a pause between them, Shoutmon descended downwards towards the rolling, dry, desolate plains below.

He got about halfway down before he dashed across the ledge that he had now landed on, over the lip of a large boulder that was extending outwards from the outcropping to another ledge on the same level, before he sprang off that too and sailed out into space, plunging down towards a thin crevice he had spotted that ran between two outcroppings close to the ground and swing his microphone above his head in both hands as he did so. He plummeted straight through the gap, but the edges of his microphone slammed into the boulders to create a crossbar that he then swung from and pulled off after him, allowing him to flip the rest of the way to the ground with ease.

He had absolutely no idea where he was meant to go, and he found himself wishing that either the Code Crown or Ilúvatar had given him a little more to go on than this instead of just dropping him in the centre of a random parched plain in the middle of nowhere. He looked up towards the sun that was rising into the sky above them. Its position indicated that it was early morning, and it had probably been in the sky for only two hours or so.

He wondered how long it had been since the Code Crown had zapped him away. It had been well past midnight if he remembered correctly so it was probably several hours ago by this point. Who could say for sure? And who could say how long it had been in the Digital World. A horrible thought struck him – time ran faster in the Digital World than the Human World. Did it run faster than this world too?

And if that was the case, how long would the Digimon wait for him to return before electing a new King? How loyal were his subjects anyway? And did he, as a King, deserve for them to wait for him?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and then looked up at the Sun again. If it was the same as the Digital World then Sun rose in the East and set in the West. So, with no particular reasoning for his decision, he struck out for the North. North just seemed to sound like the best option at this moment in time.

And so, microphone in hand, Shoutmon strode out across the plains and did not look back.

* * *

Shoutmon did not know how much time he spent walking over the rest of the day for sure. The Sun kept climbing higher and higher into the sky indicating the passage of time, but Shoutmon didn't bother to look at it. He just kept moving forwards, his eyes constantly roaming across the horizon in search of any kind of movement that might indicate intelligent life of any kind.

He did not find much. As he strode across the plains and into and out of the shade of the large hills and piles of rocks the scenery in general seemed to change very little. Though the mounds themselves were all different, every time he walked past one he began to make out another one in the distance. The ground felt sun-baked and hard under his feet despite the grass that covered it in large tufts. There was very little sound except the wind and the sound of his own footsteps. The former occasionally whistled through the passages of the hilly terrain, and the latter formed a steady accompaniment that kept Shoutmon marching in time with his own beat.

At first he tried calling out, to see if he could attract some attention. "Guys!" he would yell. "It's me! Shoutmon! Is anyone there? Ballistamon? Dorulumon? Lillymon? Starmon? Beelzemon? Anyone at all. Greymon, you old coot, tell me that you can hear me! You circling up there and making me look daft, Sparrowmon? Is there anyone out there at all?"

He did this for about an hour or so, during which time his shouting became less frequent and less loud, until eventually he lapsed into silence completely, realising that shouting just was not doing him any good. Every now and then he would randomly call out, but if nobody answered then he just stopped pretty much straight away.

There was no sign of anything that he would call sentient, although there was the occasional sign of life here and there. At one point he walked past a large boulder and a small, furry creature popped out of a hole at its base and stared at him. It looked like Cutemon, except it was even smaller, brown and its ears were less broad. Plus it wasn't wearing strange headphone-like things on the back of its head. It was just a common rabbit, and when it got a load of Shoutmon, it immediately turned around and bolted back into its hole.

Shoutmon spent five minutes crouched outside that hole and yelling into it to check if the rabbit could talk and tell him where to go but he didn't get an answer, which meant that the rabbit was either just an animal or it was not going to be co-operating with him.

The only other time he saw anything except for a couple of random birds flitting past was a fox, which reminded him of a Youkomon that he had met once, except much smaller, a russet colour instead of black and had only the one tail. He lifted up a hand to try and call to that too, but it quickly bounded off through the hills faster than Shoutmon could track it, so the Digimon King just shrugged and moved on once more.

After what he guessed was a couple of hours of solid walking, he clambered up onto the top of one of the nearest and smaller hills. The terrain was beginning to change now and become flatter and more open and less rocky, but that was about it, so Shoutmon decided to get a good look at the surrounding area to try and see if there were any other changes or notable landmarks close by.

And there was nothing. Simply nothing. There was only more hills, more plains and lots and lots and lots more grass. But no sign of anything else. With a growl of frustration, Shoutmon slid down the side of the hill and came to a stop at its base and then just carried on walking.

"This… is… ridiculous," he murmured as he just kept moving, thanking his stars that at least the majority of the landscape was flat. It was much less strenuous than climbing Apollomon's tower ever was, but it was still incredibly frustrating to have been walking for so long with no clear purpose and still be no closer to finding that purpose.

Another half hour passed and now, Shoutmon was really beginning to feel the effects of the Sun. It was not blazing hot here on the plains, but the temperature was still high and the Sun was constantly beating down on him with very little shade, which mean that he was now beginning to get thirsty. And yet he had seen no sign of water whatsoever on his walk so far, not even so much as a puddle of rainwater. It seemed that finding some kind of stream was also high on his priority list.

And it was another one that he had no idea how soon he could complete it if he just kept walking.

It wasn't long before his stomach began to make complaints as well. Shoutmon ruefully remembered that Coronamon was supposed to have been cooking up an enormous cake in honour of the occasion last night. Shoutmon snorted. That particular anniversary to the end of the fighting had had one real bizarre twist at the end. And the Code Crown might have had the decency to wait until Shoutmon and the others had been able to have a piece of Coronamon's masterpiece.

He wondered what Coronamon and the other members of the palace were doing now. All the members of the court who he would have had take charge in his absence, like Bastemon or Beelzemon or some of the others, had been whisked away to this universe somewhere with him if that Ilúvatar guy was to be believed, so that might mean that the other members of the castle were now quite disorganised. Still, perhaps Coronamon would be trying to drag them together and do something… like sending a message to people like Apollomon, Olegmon and Grademon and the Legendary Warriors to send out search parties for their lost King.

Not that there was all that much chance of finding him since he was beyond the dimensional wall.

"How _are_ we going to get home after all this is done?" murmured Shoutmon. He looked up towards the sky and yelled, "Are you going to just thank us for the help and whisk us off back home the moment we're done here or something?"

The sky answered with nothing but silence, except for a caw of a distant crow. Shoutmon sighed and pressed on, picking up the pace slightly as he was determined to try and find some form of civilisation, food or water before he ran out of steam. He had more endurance than he had had in say, the Sand Zone, but he knew that he would only be able to keep going without the latter two for so long, and there seemed to be no sign of either in any direction that he looked.

The situation remained bleak. He was now out on more open plains with considerably less rocks and hills and they just seemed to stretch on and on and on all around him. As the Sun climbed higher, Shoutmon was convinced that he saw a couple of his companions on more than one occasion and hurried towards them, only to find that it was an obscurely shaped rock when he got closer.

This was getting monotonous, and Shoutmon felt a distinct urge to dash over and punch something again.

* * *

But then, after a considerable amount of time had elapsed since he started walking which Shoutmon had completely lost track of, he began to get a crawling sensation up his spine, which made him stop walking and freeze in place, his eyes roving across the landscape while his head remained still. His instincts had been fine-tuned by experience, and he had felt this particular sensation many times. It was the prickling you get in the base of your neck that tells you, somehow, that you are being watched.

Shoutmon did not move for around a minute. There was no telling what might be watching him and a completely different universe like this, but the sensation did not go away, and Shoutmon was not willing to ignore it. He slowly tilted his head around, eyes searching the shadows of the few hills and outcroppings that were left around him in search of the perpetrator of this unsettling feeling, but even as he turned slowly in a complete circle he saw absolutely nothing.

Eventually, after more than three minutes of just standing there while the feeling refused to abate, Shoutmon decided enough was enough. Brandishing his microphone and lifting his other hand to generate a flaming ball of Rock Soul between his fingers, he put both in prominent positions so that he could leap into combat at a moment's notice and cried, "Alright then! I know that there's somebody there! Get out here and face me like a mon instead of hiding in the shadows! But I warn you, if you're looking for a fight then there's a chance you picked the wrong guy to screw with!"

The only reply for several moments was the rushing sound from his own attack as it swirled and flamed in his hand as well a slight breeze from the wind, but then he heard a noise. A noise that sounded a little like a scream. But it was not a fear-scream. It sounded more like… an animal-scream. Or perhaps a very loud… whinny?

Shoutmon blinked.

And then, sure enough, the perpetrator of the sound emerged from behind a hill off to his left. Shoutmon's gaze swung over in readiness, but what he saw did not look like something that would want to do him harm. It was tall, far taller than Shoutmon, but it did not appear imposing. It trotted towards him on four hoofed legs, its pure white body shining in the light of the sun, its long, hairy tail flicking out behind it. Its pointed ears swivelled round to face him as it approached, its mane blew out around it in the wind, and it had a calm, peaceful look on its long face.

It looked like a Pegasusmon, except white and without the armour or the wings. Essentially, it was a white horse.

Shoutmon relaxed slightly as the horse approached, as it did not appear to want to harm him. He lowered his microphone and expelled his Rock Soul, a smiled appearing on his face as the large horse drew closer to him, slowing down as it approached until it was standing a few feet away from him, looking down at him curiously.

"Hello there," Shoutmon grinned, having nothing much else to say at this point. "Sorry if I scared you before, but I was expecting an attack. What's your name?... Uh, and can you talk? None of the other life forms I've found in this crazy place have been able to talk, or have just been refusing to."

The horse said nothing, and gave no indication that it had understood anything that Shoutmon had just said. Shoutmon sighed. "That's what I thought," he murmured. "But hey, it's nice to finally meet _something_ around here that doesn't run off at the sight of me."

The horse still didn't answer, but Shoutmon had not expected it to. He took a step closer to the horse and it made no move backwards, or any move at all other than to flick its tail. Shoutmon reflected that if this was just an animal then it must be a brave one to not feel intimidated by something new like him, which was proven when he took another step forwards and the horse still didn't move.

Shoutmon slowly reached upwards with one hand, wondering if the horse would do anything about that. And the horse did – this time it moved towards the smaller creature and lowered its head down, placing its large and slightly greyer nose into Shoutmon's palm. Shoutmon grinned. That was a friendly gesture if ever he saw one, and he moved his hand upwards, rubbing the horse's nose with his fingers, which it seemed to like.

"Well, you're certainly a fearless one," Shoutmon commended. "I wonder where you live. And you could probably tell me where the nearest water and civilisation is if you could actually talk to me. I wonder if you even have a name in whatever language you might have."

"His name is Shadowfax," said a voice from right behind Shoutmon.

The Digimon King acted on instinct alone, immediately leaping backwards from the horse and spinning around, forming a fresh Rock Soul in his hand and yelling as he lobbed it with full force at the figure which was standing directly behind him. The fiery ball streaked through the air and expanded in size as it barrelled towards the adversary.

Unfortunately, the figure seemed to have anticipated something like this, because the moment Shoutmon turned around it suddenly seemed to shine with a blazing white light that made Shoutmon flinch back to shield his eyes. It threw his aim off slightly and the figure only had to side-step slightly for the giant flaming orb to go sailing past it to slam into another rocky outcropping with a massive explosion, powerful enough to vaporise a large portion of the base of the rocks and bring the rest tumbling down.

The horse neighed and tossed its head as Shoutmon growled and readied his microphone again. He did _not_ like it when people managed to sneak up on him as this guy had done.

"Relax, Shoutmon," the figure which Shoutmon could not make out thanks to the searing light said calmly over the noise of the settling rocks behind it. "I am not here to fight you."

Shoutmon growled. "Is that so? Forgive me if I don't believe you, because in my experience people who don't want to fight do not sneak up behind someone." He hefted his microphone behind him and took a couple of dashing steps forwards to leap into the air and prepare to bring the microphone slamming down into the light with a powerful Rowdy Rocker.

But, without warning, the figure thrust out one of its own hands which appeared to be clutching some sort of staff in Shoutmon's direction. Though Shoutmon was still several feet away from the tip of the staff it felt as though he was suddenly slammed by an invisible force and was sent flying backwards almost immediately. He tumbled for several moments before he forced himself to flip over in the air and come crashing back down to the ground on his feet, skidding to a halt with his claws digging grooves in the dry soil.

"Why you…" he growled, bringing his microphone before him and ready to charge back in once again.

"Peace, Shoutmon," the figure cried, more forcefully this time, and his voice seemed to wash over Shoutmon and make him halt in his tracks. "Do not mistake me for an enemy. I was telling the truth – I do not wish to fight you. Rather, I wish to help you, for you are now lost in a strange world that is not your own. I believe that you could sorely do with some guidance at this stage."

Shoutmon blinked. "How do you know that?" he asked. "And how do you know my name? Is that you again, Ilúvatar?"

The figure chuckled. "Oh no. Eru Ilúvatar is many, many times more powerful than I ever could be. But I am one of his subjects, and I know all about the situation that you are in thanks to some very… reliable sources."

Shoutmon frowned in confusion and watched as the light around the figure slowly began to fade away, and the man himself came into view. Shoutmon stared in amazement at what he saw. The man who stepped out of the light was human in appearance, but he had never seen a human quite like this guy. He looked much older than any of the humans that he had ever worked with or spoken to before, the oldest human being Taiki's mother who had not been able to hear or see him at the time.

This guy was also nearly completely white, despite the fact that the last remnants of the shining light were now fading away. He had long white hair that fell past his shoulders and a short, white beard that extended neatly down from his face. He was clad in long, white robes that fell from his body almost all the way to his feet and his sleeves also extended downwards quite a way, the robes hanging over the rest of his clothing and boots, which were also white. Finally, he had a long staff gripped in one hand, the butt of which was touching the floor and the tip of which was still higher than the man's head. Said tip was slightly bulbous and was ornately carved, indicating that whoever had created it was highly skilled and knew what they were doing. Predictably, the staff was also white.

The man smiled, and Shoutmon could not deny that the smile seemed genuinely friendly. "I have been sent here to find you," he explained. "And to help you on your course to proving your worth as the Digimon King and, if you are willing, to assist us in the fight against Sauron."

"Who are you?" Shoutmon was able to gasp out, his mind still slightly numbed at the sheer amount of whiteness that was now standing before him as he looked the man up and down. He noticed that the man also had a belt and peeking out of the folds of his robe was the hilt of a large sword, but the man was making to move towards drawing the weapon.

The man chuckled. "I have been given many names over the course of my travels throughout this land. Some called me Olórin. Others call me Tharkun. The Sindarin Elves who live in the North have named me Mithrandir. But the majority of people that I meet call me by a different name. I am Gandalf. Gandalf the White."

"White is right," murmured Shoutmon. "What's with the robes and the staff and… the whiteness?" Shoutmon blinked. "I've seen angel Digimon who are less white than that."

The figure, Gandalf, chuckled. "I suppose you could say that it is a part of my rank. You see, Shoutmon, I am a member of a group known as the Istari – what mortal men refer to as Wizards."

"Wizards?" Shoutmon blinked. "As in, the kind of people who can use magic? Seriously? Well, I guess it _does_ make sense. It explains how you were able to knock me backwards just by waving your staff… but I thought that humans didn't have the ability to use magic?"

"Most humans do not," Gandalf nodded. "But we do not call them Humans in this world. We simply call them Men. And I am certainly not a Man. I have lived far longer than any Man is capable of living with or without magic. I am a Maiar."

"A what-now?" Shoutmon frowned. "And why am I having this conversation? How do I know that I can trust you at all?"

"If you will allow me to explain then perhaps you will understand. You have been to the Timeless Halls, and you heard the music of the Ainur which Eru Ilúvatar created to help him to create the world, also known as Eä, which you are now in. Many Ages ago, several of the Ainur descended into the world. The more powerful of them became known as the Valar, while the lesser, but still powerful, became the Maiar. We lived in the country of Valinor, also known as the Undying Lands."

"Is that where we are now then?" Shoutmon asked.

"No," Gandalf shook his head. "You are in Middle Earth, which is the land that exists across the sea from Valinor. And it is this realm that is in trouble. But allow me to continue my explanation. One-thousand years into the Third Age of the Sun, and the Valar decided to select five Maiar spirits across the Sea from Valinor to Middle Earth to help guide its people against evil. I am one of those five and we are the Wizards of Middle Earth. It is our sacred task to help all its peoples against evil, and I have done my best from the beginning of my mission here to do just that."

"That sounds extremely complicated to me," Shoutmon murmured, still slightly suspicious of this character who had appeared before him, or rather behind him.

"It gets more complicated," Gandalf chuckled. "The colour of our robes indicates our position in the Order of Five. The White Robes indicate that I am the Head of the Order. Until very recently, I wore Grey, which said I am the second in rank. But the original Head of our Order has betrayed us all and joined forces with our enemy, so now I wear the White Robes as his replacement. I only wish for the safety of all the free beings of Middle Earth, regardless of where they come from or how long they intend to stay. And that includes you, Shoutmon. So, while you may still be confused and angry by being landed here, may I be the first to formally welcome you to Middle Earth."

"I wish I could say that it was a pleasure to be here," Shoutmon responded, lowering his microphone as he decided to take this man at his word… for now. "But I have to say I did not appreciate being thrown in here without being asked." He sighed and added, "Nevertheless I have little to complain about since this same thing happened to a friend of mine when he came to help me and my own world."

"Quite," Gandalf nodded, with another friendly smile on his face.

"But, anyway," Shoutmon forced a smile onto his face. "I guess I _can_ say that it is a pleasure to meet you… Gandalf, was it? I've been wondering around these plains with no sign of anyone who can help me for who knows how long so I guess I can say that it's good to meet anyone friendly at the moment."

"Indeed," Gandalf laughed. "I am not surprised. Were I in your place then I would no doubt feel the same."

"Well, it's not just me in this position," Shoutmon gripped his microphone tightly. "So many of my friends were also warped here by my Code Crown and your Ilúvatar. All the members of my team except for the Humans… Men… whatever. I need to find them all as quickly as I can before any of them get hurt thanks to the Code Crown acting on my own self-doubts. Bloody hell, I never thought that _this_ would be one of the consequences of a King who doubted himself."

Gandalf smiled wryly and said, "I'm afraid that I must apologise slightly, for I believe I may have been indirectly involved in your transportation here from your own world?"

"You?" Shoutmon asked, head swivelling back up to fix the Wizard in the eye. "Why you?"

"Because, not long ago, I faced a powerful adversary. A fellow Maiar spirit like myself, but not a member of the Istari. Another one, steeped in darkness and flames and taking on the shape of an evil Demon known as a Balrog. It was a long and gruelling battle, during which I fell down into the deepest recesses of the mountains and into the coldest waters and battled my way up an entire mountain to its very summit. The Balrog was a powerful adversary until eventually, I was able to cast him down and slay him. But, in the process, I was claimed by darkness and my spirit taken up to the Timeless Halls."

"You died?" Shoutmon gasped. "But how can you have died? You're standing here right now."

"Indeed," nodded Gandalf. "Eru Ilúvatar had been watching my progress. He is greatly saddened by the betrayal of Saruman, the former Head of my Order, and he knows that Middle Earth is in need of guidance more now than ever. Middle Earth is in its final hour of need, so he directly intervened to send my spirit back into body until at least such as time as I fulfil the task I was sent to Middle Earth to do, giving me new power in the process to allow me to take Saruman's place as Gandalf the White.

"Perhaps it was the fact that Ilúvatar chose to revive me that also made him attempt to seek out another method of sending aid to the Free Peoples, which is how he came by you and your own allies. So, once again, you have my apologies for that."

Shoutmon sighed. "Nah, it's not your fault. And I guess I can't blame this Ilúvatar guy too much. After all, he also wants what's best for his world, just as the Code Crown and Omnimon did before him. Still," he added with a chuckle. "I can't believe that I'm standing here and talking to an actual Wizard. A Wizard who died and came back to life through divine intervention. I guess… in a way… that make us the same."

"Indeed?" Gandalf asked with a raised brow.

"You don't know?" Shoutmon asked. "You seem to know a lot of other things."

"I only know what I have been told," Gandalf chuckled. "Which is who and what you are, how you have been summoned to Middle Earth and why. I know not what you are capable of doing, how you and your friends might be able to help you or indeed what any of your friends look like, let alone your past adventures. I was sent here by the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood and by the will of Eru to introduce you to our world, but that is the extent of what I know."

"Fair enough," Shoutmon nodded. "Well, I'll tell you then. There was a time when I was fighting against an adversary called DarknessBagramon, who was also a large Demon but who was also many, many times more powerful than I was. I lost my own life in the fight against him in an attempt to take back the Code Crown, which he had in his possession at the time.

"But thanks to the actions of my friend Taiki, the Code Crown was able to break free of DarknessBagramon's control and revive me and some of my friends to fight against him again and gave us extra power… enough to defeat him once and for all."

"I see," Gandalf smiled. "Well, if that is indeed the case, then you and I really are the same in many aspects, Shoutmon. It is a privilege to meet a kindred spirit such as yourself."

"Just wait until you meet Beelzemon then," Shoutmon laughed. "He's even more like you. He actually managed to take out the Demon he was trying to kill. And he's been reborn _twice_ since he was beaten by the same Demon in their first round."

Gandalf laughed as well. "Interesting. You would think that dying in the destruction of a mighty Demon and being reborn would not be a common occurrence. But apparently it happens more often than you might think."

"Yeah," Shoutmon nodded. "I guess it does."

The two of them chuckled together for a moment before Shoutmon eventually wiped his eyes and said, "Alright then. Since it looks like I'm going to be stuck in this Middle Earth place for the foreseeable future, I guess I should know what sort of situation me and my friends have managed to wind up in this time. Do you have any of those details that you could fill me in on."

"Indeed I do," Gandalf's face turned grim. "It is sad to say that Middle Earth now stands on the brink of destruction. If the balance of power shifts any more in the favour of the Enemy then its very likely that hope will be lost forever and evil will spread across this land in an nigh-unstoppable tide."

"I wouldn't say that," Shoutmon growled. "No matter how much of an advantage the enemy seems to have there is always hope on the horizon. I learned that one in my own fight. The enemy that I fought _did_ manage to take over the world entirely, but through the power of our teamwork, we managed to push back and take back our world from him all the same."

Gandalf's eyebrows had both raised upwards now. "Is that so?" he asked. "Then I greatly admire you, Shoutmon, for having stepped up to such a task and saving your world, and I count it a great honour to have fighters such as you and your warriors in our world now. Perhaps there is more hope than there seems."

"There better be," Shoutmon nodded darkly. "So, who is this great enemy that I'm supposed to be helping you guys to battle against? If he's anything like Bagramon then we might still be in trouble, for we had access to powers against our own evil threat that we will not have in this world."

"We can only hope that we will prevail then," Gandalf replied. "For our enemy is indeed great. His name is Sauron. He is a Maiar spirit like myself, but one of far greater power than I. He was once the lieutenant of an even more powerful evil, but when that was subdued in ages past, Sauron took over to try and take his turn at reclaiming Middle Earth."

"Sauron," Shoutmon murmured. "Hmm. I know that it might sound like some kind of lame pun, but that name does leave quite a… sour… taste in my mouth, I have to admit. It definitely sounds like a name for a great evil."

"Befitting indeed," Gandalf nodded. "This is not the first time that Sauron has attempted to take over the lands of Middle Earth and waged war against it, but as things stand now he might have a better chance of succeeding than he did last time. The peoples of Middle Earth were united back in the first attempt, and Sauron and his armies of dark creatures found themselves up against heavy defences everywhere they went, and eventually the forces of good were able to push him back and destroy his armies and even his body. Many believed the threat to be vanquished completely, but Sauron's spirit managed to survive and has been long trying to gain enough strength to start again.

"It is sad to say that during his absence, the races of Middle Earth have grown separate and apart, the old alliances between them dying out as many believed they were no longer needed. But now, Sauron has returned, filled with rage and determined to succeed once again. His armies are now of immense size and his most terrible servants who went into hiding after his body was destroyed have no returned to reap their evil on all the lands once again."

"But how could his spirit survive if his body was destroyed?" Shoutmon frowned. "I mean, the soul of a Digimon is immortal so even if _our_ bodies are destroyed our soul remains alive, but still have no sense of self until we're reborn. Is that the same kind of thing with this… Sauron?"

"Not quite," Gandalf shook his head. "Sauron's sprit should have been destroyed along with his body, but there was something which kept it alive, albeit weak." The Wizard hesitated. "What I am about to reveal to you has become common knowledge, but there is a section to this story that is known to few, and must not be learned by the Enemy at any cost. Right now I must ask you, whether you help us not, to not divulge this information to anyone that you meet, except perhaps your fellow Digimon once you find them."

Shoutmon frowned and stared into Gandalf's eyes for any hint of a lie or deception, but he was already finding that he felt he could trust this man. Of course, he had felt that before. Lucemon had been an uncomfortable reminder of how a friendly face could be hiding the fiercest of evils. But he decided to allow Gandalf the benefit of the doubt and nodded. "Alright. I swear it."

"My thanks," Gandalf nodded, as he began. "You see, Sauron's initial master plan to take over the land of Middle Earth was to trick the smiths of the Elves, who are a powerful race of beings that frequent the forests of this land, to forge special rings of power to distribute to all the Kingdoms while Sauron forged another Ring – one specially designed to bring the wielders of the other Rings of Power under his control and therefore all of the Kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Why that sneaky little bastard!" Shoutmon growled. "That is one of the lowest, sneakiest and most dishonourable schemes that I have ever heard in my life! Even Bagramon was not as bad as that! Though DarkKnightmon probably would have been."

"Coarse language aside," Gandalf coughed heavily. "I have to agree with you. And it worked, to a degree. Many Kingdoms did fall to ruin underneath the rule of Sauron's Master Ring. But, during the final battle when Sauron stepped onto the battlefield, the Ring was cut from his finger by a Man called Isildur. And the Ring is tied to Sauron in so many ways – he put a large portion of his power and even a part of his soul and blood into the Ring which meant that the moment it was separated from him, Sauron's body was instantly destroyed."

Shoutmon blinked several times, and Gandalf stopped talking to allow the information to sink in. Then, Shoutmon suddenly exploded with, "Say what! What a complete idiot! That has to be one of the stupidest things that anyone has ever done in existence ever! Why in the world would he put so much power into a little Ring?"

"Unfortunately if you knew the answer to that question, you would realise why it is not such an idiotic thing to do," Gandalf sighed. "Placing a portion of his soul into the Ruling Ring gave it a will of its own. It is, quite literally, a part of him, and even though it might seem to be an inanimate object, it can carry out its own goals in the right conditions and can corrupt the hearts of anyone who gets close to it. That meant that Sauron could much more easily manipulate the wielders of the other Rings of Power to come into his service and do his bidding."

"Well… I guess," Shoutmon murmured. "But it still sounds like a stupid thing to do if you ask me."

"There is more," Gandalf went on. "The Ring still exists today. It was able to corrupt Isildur into keeping it and then managed to lure in evil to kill Isildur and went into hiding as Sauron's spirit gained strength once again. And now, both have resurfaced. Sauron is still a mere spirit, but he is able to take on a semi-physical for and he is still able to command the forces of evil against us even if he cannot fight us himself. The only thing he needs now to regain his body completely is the Ring itself. His power in the Ring might have been what destroyed him… but it is also what saved him."

"Ah…" Shoutmon murmured. "Jeez, all of this is really doing a number on my head. I can tell you that this is quite a lot to process. And you're saying that the Ring still exists? Why don't you just destroy it?"

"That is much more difficult a task than it might sound," Gandalf said gravely. "It cannot be destroyed by conventional means like weapons, nor can it be blemished by magic. It is too powerful an artefact for that since it contains a part of Sauron. There is only one way to destroy it – it must be taken to the place where it was forged in the depths of Mount Doom and thrown into the fires. Its magic prevents it from being destroyed in any other way."

"Then why not do that?" Shoutmon asked.

"This is the part that few people know about," Gandalf grimaced. "We are in the middle of attempting exactly that. A group of intrepid adventurers are on their way to Mount Doom as we speak. But they have many problems set before them. For one thing, prolonged exposure to the presence of the Ring is sure to affect them in many ways and the Ring will grow stronger the closer it gets to Mount Doom. Because Mount Doom is in the country of Mordor and Mordor is the stronghold of Sauron himself. Sauron's main fortress lies but a few miles away from the mountain itself. It is a very dangerous journey indeed."

"Er…" Shoutmon blinked several times, as the gravity of that situation sank in. "Well… that's pretty… inconvenient. And very problematic."

"Exactly," nodded Gandalf.

"There must be an alternative, surely," Shoutmon murmured thoughtfully. "What if you were able to just toss it to the bottom of the ocean or into a tar pit or something?"

"That might prevent Sauron from gaining the Ring again for a long time, if at all," Gandalf nodded. "But it would not be a permanent solution, nor would it help the free people right now. Sauron may not have the One Ring, but he has massive armies at his disposal along with numerous dark creatures and other forms of evil that are already threatening this world. Merely ensuring the Ring stays lost would not solve that problem.

"No. The only way that we can win this war is to destroy Sauron entirely. And the only way to destroy Sauron's spirit is to destroy the Ring. Without the Ring as his vessel, Sauron's spirit will vanish, his armies will be leaderless and everything his evil created will be destroyed. But until that time, everything is under threat."

Shoutmon shook his head. "This sounds both familiar and the exact opposite to what happened back in my Digital World. You're fighting against a Dark Lord who wants to use an object of great power to take over the world, just like we did. But this time, you want to destroy the object instead of getting it back from him and using it yourself. I don't suppose there is any chance of using this Ring against him?"

"The Ring would grant anyone who used it power of some description," Gandalf nodded. "And the more powerful the being in question the greater that power will be. But the Ring would easily corrupt anyone who tried to use it in that way and eventually their will would be turned towards evil as well. The Ring has only one true Master that it will obey and acknowledge. And I think you know who that is."

"Yeah, I think I've got the picture," Shoutmon nodded, a growl forming on his jagged mouth. "Dark Lord. Using powerful artefact. Nobody else can use it against him. Only way to defeat him is to destroy it. Got it. I have to say I feel sorry for you guys now. I think that the jam you guys have managed to land yourselves in is almost as bad, if not _just_ as bad, as ours was."

"It certainly is dire," Gandalf agreed.

"Dire might be an understatement," Shoutmon snorted. "What's going to happen to this group you spoke of that are heading towards this Doom place? Sounds like some kind of suicide mission to me."

Gandalf actually winced, and Shoutmon was surprised to see intense pain filling his eyes.

When Shoutmon looked deeper into those eyes, he was shocked to discover just how old they seemed. Yes, this Gandalf seemed to be old in body, but his eyes were far, far older than his body told. Shoutmon had found some of the things Gandalf had been saying about living for so long a little far-fetched. Now, though, he could honestly say that he believed every word.

"It may well come to being a suicide mission, as you put it," he sighed heavily. "The Ring is now being carried by a Hobbit, a small but relatively resilient creature about half the height of a Man straight towards Mordor, as we speak."

"Small means nothing," Shoutmon chuckled. "Sometimes it's the small ones that can really surprise you."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "But I fear that I played a part in giving the Ringbearer his terrible burden and it pains me to think of him going into such a dangerous place. But the quest has now begun, and I cannot carry the Ring in his place, for through my power it would gain hold over me far more quickly than it would a small relatively powerless creature as he. What has begun must now be finished, and Frodo, for that is his name, must see it through to the end."

Shoutmon paused for a moment, taking in the pain-filled look on Gandalf's face again and, after a quiet analysis, he muttered, "You care for him, don't you?"

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "I have known him for many years, and I count him among my dearest of friends. I was once the leader of the group who now escort Frodo to Mordor, but my contest with the Balrog separated me from them and I know not where they even are now, though I do have a friend who is helping me to search for them as we speak and discover what has happened to them. But whatever the case, I can no longer take over the Quest and stop Frodo from carrying out this task to let someone else take his place. He must carry it out now."

Shoutmon nodded solemnly, turning around to glance out across the horizon once again. The white horse was still there, tossing its head and whinnying as it watched the exchange between the two of them. The place around them seemed so peaceful to Shoutmon, but so had many parts of the Digital World way back when. Looks of peace could be deceptive. Very deceptive.

Shoutmon knew then that he believed everything Gandalf said. He now trusted this man… Maiar… Wizard… whatever, to the extreme. The world suddenly seemed a darker place now that he knew of the evil that was lurking within it – the same kind of deep-seated and all-devouring evil that the Bagra Army had once been.

More than ever, Shoutmon wanted to find his friends and get the Xros Heart United Army back together. Both so that he knew that everybody was safe, but also because he had a feeling that they were all going to be needed to fight this evil.

"So," Shoutmon turned back to Gandalf after several moments. "What exactly is it that you want me and my friends to do? Do you want us to band together and go with you to help in this quest to destroy that Ring? Because if you do then I need to find my comrades first."

"No," Gandalf shook his head. "That task is now Frodo's. He will have a far better chance of completing it if the band involved in the quest is kept small. That way, they should be able to slip past Sauron and his armies without attracting their attention."

"We are quite powerful," Shoutmon pointed out. "Many of us are extremely strong on our own. I would like to see how this Sauron's armies respond when Deckerdramon charges at them, and I know that he's here in Middle Earth somewhere."

"We cannot achieve victory with strength alone," Gandalf replied. "We must deceive Sauron even as he tries to deceive us. Even without the Ring, Sauron's forces are ready to move and already have done in many instances. He has manipulated the former White Wizard, Saruman, into betraying us and building an army of his own to attack the Free Peoples, and their strikes against Middle Earth will begin long before the Ring reaches its final destination in the Fires of Mount Doom."

"Ah, I see," Shoutmon nodded. "And you want me and the others to help ensure that all these Kingdoms of Middle Earth are still standing by the time that the Ring does eventually get destroyed."

Gandalf's tired looking face mustered itself into a grin. "Essentially, yes. That is the plan. Sauron has enormous numbers of Orcs and evil Men at his command, as well as large numbers of Trolls and other giant monsters and creatures, not to mention his personal servants, the Nine Nazgûl. He will pit all of them against the Free Peoples of Middle Earth."

"I don't know what most of those things are, but I got the main gist of that," Shoutmon supplied.

"But that is only part of the idea," Gandalf added with a chuckle. "We need to try and keep Sauron's gaze occupied on his main war effort and attempt to keep his mind occupied and away from the events that are closer to him, so that he is less likely to notice the Ringbearer transporting his most precious and evil of treasures right to his threshold to destroy it and finally defeat him. If we can keep Sauron focused on us… and more specifically… you… then we can also increase Frodo's chances of success."

"Sounds like the strategy we used in a place called Hell's Field," Shoutmon nodded. "Our enemy's leader was just a kid who was being tricked into attacking us so we attacked him head-on with several of our forces to distract his attention and his army while Taiki, Greymon and MailBirdramon went round the side and took him off guard in his own fortress so that he could try and convince him to stop."

"Yes, it does sound similar to that," Gandalf agreed. "It seems there are many parallels between events in your world and ours, Shoutmon."

"So many that it's almost scary," Shoutmon agreed with a chuckle.

"Indeed. But now is the time for the important question," Gandalf passed his staff across himself so that he was holding it in both hands. "The one that you have not yet answered throughout this whole conversation. Will you help us?"

Shoutmon said nothing for a moment, and when he started speaking again, what he was saying did not, at first, seem relevant to Gandalf's question.

"There's a phrase that we have back in our world, Master Gandalf," he began. "A simple phrase that started out as something our lead General, Taiki Kudou, would always say when he saw someone suffering. That phrase has been converted into my main motto, and the motto of my court, my kingdom and the entire Digital World. I don't know if I have the right to be King, but that phrase certainly applies in this situation even so. Our magic number is seven, and this phrase is composed of seven, simple words, and since each is only one syllable, it is composed of seven of them as well.

"It is the perfect answer to your question. Do you want to know what it is?"

"I would," Gandalf nodded.

Shoutmon hefted his microphone and thrust it into the air, filling his lungs with air and belting out the phrase to the sky:-

"I CAN'T TURN MY BACK ON YOU!"

Gandalf blinked, but then after a couple of moments he laughed. It was a clear laugh that rang through the hills as the echoes of Shoutmon's answer died away. "A worthy phrase indeed," he smiled broadly. "And one that the Kingdoms of this land might do well to adopt. I take it that means you are saying 'yes?'"

"Course it does," Shoutmon smirked. "I know that Taiki would never turn his back on you were he called here and I cannot call myself his friend if I did otherwise. But even without Taiki's influence, I would still say yes, and not just because I am now stuck here. I too cannot turn my back on those who are in need of my help. I will help fight against Sauron, and when we find the rest of my friends who are here I know that they will do the same."

"It seems Eru chose well when he summoned you here," Gandalf chuckled. "We are indebted to you already and the fighting has not even begun. Now, if you are willing, I have a friend that I must speak with and I wish for you to come along, for I will guide you to the war faster than you could get if you continue walking north. We can keep an eye out for your friends on the way."

"I do have to find them," Shoutmon nodded. "But yeah, of course I'll come along. I had a feeling I was hopelessly lost anyway."

"You are far from anywhere civilised out here on the Wold of Northern Rohan," Gandalf nodded, as he strode over to the horse, Shadowfax. The horse was bare-backed, but it allowed Gandalf to haul himself up onto his back with surprising spryness for an elderly-looking man. The white robes seemed to blend Gandalf in with the white horse. "Come on board," he nodded down to Shoutmon. "We have a long way to travel and Shadowfax is among the fastest of horses in existence."

"Gotcha," nodded Shoutmon and he sprang upwards, clearing Shadowfax's back with a single bound and settling in front of Gandalf and right behind the horse's head, gripping its thick neck. Shadowfax didn't seem to need any command from his rider, for the moment Shoutmon had a good grip, he tossed his head and turned to the west and threw himself into a gallop, thundering across the plains faster than Shoutmon could possibly have hoped to run on his own.

"Oh, and one more thing," Shoutmon added as he looked over his shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to have any water on you, would you?"

* * *

Huzzah! Gandalf and Shoutmon have now met one another and Shoutmon has already accepted his part in the coming battles and war effort and now all that remains is for the rest of his team to gather into groups and for the fighting to begin. It will extend right across Middle Earth from the War in the South covered in the films and the War in the North covered in several different games.

With the final scene-setting chapter now accomplished, we can finally begin in earnest. There _will_ be some action in the next chapter… if not a lot.

* * *

Next time…

With Shoutmon now fully updated as to the situation and filled with the resolve to do what he can and pass the Code Crown's test, now we must find out what's happening to the rest of Xros Heart. Several of them have fallen into the South of Middle Earth, and we explore several of their encounters with their locals and the various areas.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 6 : The South**


	6. The South

Hey there guys. Looks like I'm on a roll at the moment, but considering I have now finished with my second year of uni and therefore have no other work I should be doing as well as these fanfics, that should be relatively understandable. In any case, here I am with the first of the two chapters that introduces the various Digimon for Xros Wars besides Shoutmon into the world on Middle Earth. Any additional Digimon left out of this chapter, of which there are many, will be covered in the next one. I hope you enjoy what I've done so far and while they may be scattered around, I do have a plan for each of them. Hehehe. Read on.

**Alliance Empire** – Sorry I didn't get back to you last time but I forgot to reply. It would be easier if you hadn't disabled your PM feature, because I tried to use that to reply straight away, but couldn't. Anyway, yes I will be using elements of both campaigns from BFME2 for the War in the North, but mostly the good campaign, though I will include parts of the evil one in on the side, like Lothlórien, Mirkwood and the Withered Heath… though the outcomes might be slightly different, if you follow me. Hehe.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 6:- The South**

* * *

With a slight moan, one of the three red Monitamon pushed himself upwards and grasped the top corner of the small television set that made up its head. That had not been a very pleasant landing at all. He wasn't sure what had happened really when the Code Crown flared up – all he could remember was suddenly being thrown onto some rocks as if he'd been teleported somewhere completely different.

"Ugh, I don't want to do that again," he murmured to himself.

"Help! Somebody help!" a muffled voice cried, and the Monitamon looked over towards the direction of the voice quickly and was rather alarmed to see another of his red cohorts… except that his head appeared to be wedged between two large boulders and completely out of sight, leaving him trapped completely upside down with his legs flailing in the air. "I'm stuck," he cried, his voice quite covered by the rocks around his head. "I can't get out. Please! Is anyone there?"

The first Monitamon quickly pushed himself upwards and tried to run over towards his trapped brother, but a sudden wave of dizziness from the hard landing caused him to stop and totter to the side slightly, trying to regain his bearings and not particularly succeeding. "Oh, my head hurts," he moaned.

"_Your_ head hurts?" the second one cried. "_My_ head's stuck here between these two boulders! Quick, get me out of here. I think that my screen is about to break."

"Oh dear," the first Monitamon shook himself quickly and meandered slowly over to the other Monitamon as quickly as his dizzy body was able to take him until he was standing precariously next to the gap where the other one was wedged. He almost fell over again as he drew close and he sat down for a few minutes, violently shaking his TV head to try and get rid of some of the static in his vision.

"Don't worry," he declared with a moan that didn't make it sound all that convincing. "I'll get you out of there. Just hold on."

"I don't _have_ to hold on," the stuck Monitamon declared. "I'm the one being _held_."

"Good point," the first Monitamon murmured.

"Is anyone there?" another voice suddenly called out from the bottom of the boulder pile and the first Monitamon looked down to see the third red Monitamon pushing himself out from underneath a pile of gravel that had partially buried him and swaying on the spot as he tried to keep his balance.

"Up here," the first Monitamon cried. "We've got to help our fellow Monitamon!"

"Oh jeez… how the heck did that happen?" the third Monitamon yelped when he saw what was going on and hurriedly started to try and clamber up the face of the other boulder towards the two of them.

"How should I know?" the first one shrugged. "I don't even know what happened. One minute we were in the castle and the next minute, here we are next to this pile of rocks."

"Or _in_ them," the second Monitamon yelped. "Please, get me out of here!"

"Alright, alright, we'll do what we can," the third Monitamon nodded, swaying on the spot slightly as he tried to keep his balance on the uneven surface of the boulder. He then reached out and grabbed the feet of the second Monitamon, while the first one copied his actions from the other side. "We'll both work together and pull you out on the count of three. Okay?" he asked.

"Anything," the second Monitamon whined. "I can feel the blood rushing to my flyback transformer."

"Oh, that's not good," the third Monitamon muttered. "Alright… on three. One… two… three!" Both of the free Monitamon suddenly hauled upwards with all of their strength, which wasn't a whole lot to be honest. The second Monitamon yelled as his head scraped against the boulders wedging him in and the other too strained to move him and only succeeded in pulling him about a centimetre upwards despite all the effort they were putting in.

"Almost… got it," groaned one of them, trying to keep the spirit of the stuck one up.

"Ow! It hurts! You're going to pull my monitor clean off at this rate!" the stuck one cried.

"Pull harder!" the third one cried and the two of them yanked up on their comrade's ankles as hard as they could. They both strained every bit of effort they could… before they both just gave out and fell backwards, almost falling into the gap that their comrade was already stuck in. And they had succeeded in making absolutely no progress at all in getting their companion out.

"Oooww," the second one moaned, his legs practically slumping in the air as if he was already resigning himself to being stuck in there for a while.

"I don't think we can do it," sighed the first one. "Why does this sort of thing always happen to us and not the other three Monitamon. It always seems to be us that mess up like this even though we've done a lot more ninja training that we had before."

"You can't leave me here," whimpered the stuck one. "I can't be stuck upside down in a rock for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure that we'll think of something," the third one supplied. "We just need to… WAAGH!"

The entire boulder that the third one was currently sitting on suddenly shifted, causing the one wedged between them to yelp and cry out in panic, thinking that his head was going to be crushed if they moved any closer to one another. There was a grunting noise as the boulder shifted a second time, and then a third, until it began to slowly rise off the ground completely and moved away from the other boulder. The Monitamon between them promptly became unstuck and fell to the floor between them.

Looking up, he could now see underneath the boulder that had had him pinned.

And on the other side of it were a big of thick, blue, metallic legs.

"N-gah!" said their own. "I thought you could use a hand."

"Ballistamon!" the first Monitamon cheered. "Hooray! You came to help us!"

"Of course I did," the robotic beetle-like Digimon grunted as he shifted the huge boulder that he was lifting into a better position his broad chest before he heaved it to one side and sent it crashing into the ground harmlessly where it rolled and came to rest at the foot of a cliff. "Wow, that was heavy," he murmured, scraping one metal hand across his chest to try and get tiny grains of rock which had fallen away off. "Are you guys alright?" he added.

"Yes, thanks to you," nodded the second Monitamon as he got back up and bashed the side of his head to make sure his TV was still functioning. A moment later he displayed a sign on his monitor to show that he was happy. "I owe you one, big guy."

"It's alright," Ballistamon nodded, his large face as expressionless at always but a chuckle clearly evident in his voice. "But right now there's something more important that we need to focus on. Like… where are we? Have you guys ever been here before?"

"I… don't believe so," the first Monitamon, who shall now be referred to as D-Monitamon-1 muttered as he looked all around him, as did the other two, who will now be referred to as D-Monitamon-2 and D-Monitamon-3. "I've never seen anywhere in the Digital World like this place before."

And he was quite right. The four Digimon appeared to be in a series of narrow canyons that were surrounded on all sides by enormous rocky crags that were many, many times taller than Ballistamon himself, meaning there was a very slim chance of the bulky machine Digimon climbing up it. The passageways between the crags seemed to separate in many different directions, somewhat like a maze, and none of them could see anything further away than about thirty feet other than rock.

"You were lucky I found you," Ballistamon said. "I'd been wandering around for quite some time before I heard you guys. This place seems to be some kind of giant labyrinth of giant rocks. I don't have a clue how we got here. And I have even less of a clue as to how to get out."

"Well, that's unfortunate," D-Monitamon-3 murmured. "Did you see any of the others?"

"Not one," Ballistamon shook his flat, horned head. "You guys are the first life I've come across at all out here."

"So what are we supposed to do now?" D-Monitamon-1 asked.

D-Monitamon-2 shrugged. "I don't know. We're lost and we don't know where we are or where we're going or where we're meant to be going or where the others are. How should I know?"

"There's only one thing we can do for now," Ballistamon murmured as he stepped past the three Monitamon. "Start walking. And hope that we find something. You three coming?"

The Monitamon all looked at one another as their larger guardian moved away, before D-Monitamon-2 cried, "Wait for us!" and they hurried along after him.

* * *

The capital city of Rohan loomed tall against the landscape it stood in, backdropped by the rising peaks of the White Mountains, and surrounded by vast open plains of rolling green grass with a few small trees dotted around the place. The city itself was situated on large hill at the base of the mountains, surrounded on all sides by tall wooden walls, with a huge pair of gates at the front and a winding road that led up from them to the peak at the other side of the city. Small wooden houses were the predominant feature of the city, situated along the network of roads that climbed up to the summit and where many Rohan peasants dwelt in relative peace.

For most of the time anyway.

The Golden Hall of Meduseld could be seen rising up from the very summit at the back of the city. It was an enormous great hall with a roof of straw that was so thick that it could still stand against the worst of the elements that had hit it so far and made it appear as though it was made out of gold, hence its name and it was in this hall that Rohan's seventeenth King, Théoden son of Thengel, sat reclined on his throne.

It was a city that had seen better days. For the most part, there was a lack of cheer to its people these days, ever since the King seemed to have become sluggish and almost sleepy most of the time. Most of them seemed to know that there was trouble brewing in Middle Earth, and they all seemed to be waiting with a sense of despair for the hammer-stroke to finally fall.

Right now, however, there was a frenzy of activity in the city, as several fully armed men were hurrying down the steps from the Golden Hall, clad in the dull but thick looking armour of the men of Rohan, also known as the Rohirrim. One of these men was Háma, the door-warden to the Hall itself, and another of them was Gamling, one of the Captains of the King's Royal Guard. Both of them had shoulder-length hair and relatively thick beards around their faces, though Háma's was reddish brown while Gamling's was dirty blond.

The men who ran behind them were all clad in long green cloaks and chainmail armour and most of them were clutching large spears and looked about ready to use them. And they were all being led by a black-bearded man in simple peasant garments, who was trying to hurry such a thing.

"But it is impossible surely," Gamling was protesting. "How could such a creature get past our city walls without the guards noticing its entry?"

"I do not know," the man said, clearly distraught. "All I know is that my family and I heard a crashing sound coming from within the pantry and there it was, clear as day and as real as anything."

"Did you manage to trap it?" Háma asked, his hand already going to his sword as he bit his lip and steeled himself for an upcoming fight.

"I think so. We locked it in, but it looked pretty powerful, so it might be able to break out again. I'm not sure. There is my house now."

The man led the guards over towards the little dwelling resting against one of the rocky walls of the sloping city. There was a woman standing fearfully outside with a pair of children clutched in her arms and staring at the house fearfully, and there appeared to now be a thin crowd surrounding the place, all bunched together and looking nervous as if knowing that they probably would be safer somewhere else but for some reason not able to walk away.

"The pantry, you say?" Gamling asked for clarification.

"Yes, it is on the left," nodded the man.

Gamling and Háma looked at one another and nodded, before both of them stole into the dwelling with their swords drawn, several of the guards moving in behind them with spears levelled over the shoulders of the two bearded men and ready for anything that might emerge. They saw the wooden door that they were supposed to be heading towards easily enough and the moved towards it as quietly as they could, Gamling slowly reaching out his arm to grasp the doorhandle and brace himself to wrench it open.

Gamling turned around to check that the rest of the men were ready, and the forest of spears pointing towards the door told him the answer was yes. He nodded and raised three fingers quietly… then lowered one… and then lowered another…

But before he could lower his final finger, something large, yellow and very sharp was suddenly plunged straight through the wooden door and almost impaled him in the head. Gamling jerked backwards instinctively and all the men behind him did the same, completely taken off guard by this motion. The sharp object was withdrawn back through the door to leave a gaping hole and… moments later, a very large, lupine form slammed into the door and splintered it to pieces crashing into the main room in front of the spears before pulling to a halt.

The men gasped at the creature in front of them. "Warg!" cried one of them. "It _is_ a warg!"

"Excuse me?" Dorulumon raised a brow. "I'm a what?"

"Get it!" the panicked cry of one of the guards was his only answer, and Dorulumon knew better than to hang around when someone shouted that. Several spears were thrust in his direction but he span around and swatted them aside with his tail-drill before dashing forwards and slamming his way straight through the thin wall with his broad shoulders and burst out into the street with a shower of wood.

The villagers screamed and immediately scattered as he looked around him wildly, searching for an escape route. Behind him, Háma and Gamling and the other men stumbled out of the main door and quickly hurried towards him with swords and spears raised.

"Wait!" Dorulumon roared at them. "Stop! I am not your en…!" A sword cleaving down at his head quickly forced him to stop talking and he swung himself aside and darted up the streets and away from the men. "Oh, never mind," he groaned, more to himself as he darted away, the men in hot pursuit, but falling behind quickly under Dorulumon's high speed.

"That's not like any warg I have ever seen before," Háma gasped as they ran. "And it could speak."

"No doubt one of the White Wizard's abominations of nature," growled Gamling, and he had absolutely every reason to think that considering the reports he'd been given recently. "Quick, you two! Get to the stables and bring the horses! We must hunt that thing down before it hurts too many of our people!"

"Yes, sir!" cried the guards as they hurried off to do just that while the rest of the guards fanned out into the streets, trying to locate their target.

* * *

"Coming through," Dorulumon cried as be bolted through a crowd of panicking peasants and darted into a gap between two houses and took a flying leap up the rock wall that stood behind them, clearing it most of the way but having to scrabble up with his back legs to reach the higher level of the city.

The wolf-like Digimon took a moment to look around himself at the architecture and the city itself, as well as the mountain range and the plains that lay beyond the giant wooden walls of the city. "What in the Digital World…" he murmured in disbelief as he looked around. "Or, more to the point, _where_ in the Digital World, am I? This place is definitely not familiar."

"There it is!" cried a voice and Dorulumon's head shot around to see a couple more of the guards dashing straight towards him. And one of them had a bow with an arrow on the string, and was quickly drawing it, letting fly with the bolt that came shooting towards the Digimon at incredible speed.

But Dorulumon's reflexes were right on the mark and his tail swung over to deflect the arrow with his tail-drill. "Right," he murmured to himself, wheeling around and bolting off down the street again away from the guards. "First order of business, get out of here. Then I can figure out where the heck I am."

He rounded a corner and saw another pair of guards running towards him with swords drawn and seeking to run him through. Dorulumon had to admit that they were brave men, if foolhardy and he increased his speed as he bounded straight towards them before taking a huge leap, powering upwards with his hind paws and sailing clean over the top of the two guards to go dashing on down the streets unhindered.

He skidded to a halt as several peasants rushed into their rooms and shut the doors behind them as if that would provide some defence against a powerful Digimon like Dorulumon. Dorulumon's eyes narrowed as he focused on finding a way out and, sure enough, he saw one – the gates of the city were wide open at the base of the hill. It was a winding downhill run straight towards it. When Dorulumon was out of the hair of these humans then he would be able to think a little bit more about his next move.

But then he heard the thudding sound of several hooves beating against the ground directly behind him and he saw several horsemen rounding the corner, their mounts snorting through their noses as their riders levelled their large spears at him. Dorulumon snarled in annoyance and quickly bounded away again, the horsemen right on his tail.

Dorulumon swerved around the next corner at such high speed that he almost skidded onto his side and bolted down the road, scattering peasants as he dashed between the wooden houses that lined the alleyways of the city. He piled on speed, determined to stay away from the spears of the horsemen, and it seemed that they were roughly evenly paced, for there was no noticeable increase or decrease in the gap between them.

But, as Dorulumon reached a fork in the road, two more horsemen suddenly thundered up from the path he had been planning to take, so he skidded around and dashed down the other way instead, his tail scything within inches of the bellies of the horses, who reared up in panic at his sudden appearance and flailed at the air with their hooves to try and keep him away, but he was already long gone.

Dorulumon knew that it was very likely that he could fight these men but he also knew that there was a good chance they were just innocent people trying to protect each other from this rogue Digimon so he just kept running, the hooves behind him kicking up a continuous thundering beat behind him. And then, exactly what Dorulumon had been hoping not to happen happened – more horsemen began to charge towards him from directly ahead, cutting off his route entirely.

Dorulumon growled, but his fine-tuned instincts immediately told him what to do next and he skidded almost to a halt, kicking up a huge amount of dirt under his paws as he dashed straight between the narrow gap between a pair of houses and the horsemen were forced to draw to skidding halts before the two sides ended up colliding with one another head on. Dorulumon found himself at the lip of another large rocky wall and he bounded off the edge, sailing out and down the ten feet that the wall rose from the ground beneath it, landing smoothly and still running as he barrelled down towards the gates.

That's when Gamling and Háma came charging round after him on their own horses and tried to follow him in the straight line that now led to the gates. "Quickly!" Háma shouted. "Close the gates! We can't let it escape!"

The men up at the top of the gates hurriedly grabbed the huge, steel winch at the top and began to turn it with great effort, causing the huge wooden structure to begin to slowly close ahead of the fleeing Digimon. Meanwhile several archers who were based on the wall around the gates immediately whirled around and drew their bows, pointing their viciously pointed ammunition in Dorulumon's direction.

But, so close to escape, and Dorulumon was not about to go down so easily. With a wrench he sprang to one side and forwards at the same time, causing the arrows to slam harmlessly into the ground around and behind him. He gritted his fangs and thought, _Sorry about this,_ before he suddenly cried, **"DRILL BUSTER!"**

The drill on his forehead suddenly shot forwards and several dozen more lanced out of the hole that it left behind and shot their way upwards like arrows themselves towards the walls. Alarmed by this sudden and unexpected barrage the archers and the people at the gates immediately threw themselves to the floor, but that had been exactly what Dorulumon had wanted them to do. He had been deliberately aiming to miss, but they hadn't known that and with all the strength in his legs, he piled on more speed on the last stretch to the gate.

On realising what had happened the people at the gates stood back up and hurriedly continued to pull the gates closed, but Dorulumon knew they were too late. In fact, he actually slowed down slightly, timing his exit from the gates to perfection so that he literally slipped through the gap moments before it became too narrow for him and then he was off again, pelting across the plains as fast as his legs would carry him, blowing a tornado out of his tail back at the wall as he ran to keep the archers from shooting him in the back.

Gamling and Háma pulled their horses to skidding halts just before they crashed into the gates while other horse-riders hurtled down the streets towards them. "Drat!" Gamling cried. "Quick! Open the gates again! Riders of Rohan to me! We must not let the creature escape our sights."

The gatekeepers hurried to obey and forced the gates back open to allow the horsemen out onto the plains. But by that point, Dorulumon was already a distant white figure and therefore had a very large head-start on them as they set off in pursuit.

And the entire ordeal had been silently watched from up on the threshold of the Golden Hall by a woman in long sleeved white robes and long golden hair and grey eyes, who, like everyone else, was wondering how that strange warg-creature had appeared within their walls… and whether Saruman and his magic had had anything to do with it.

* * *

When Mervamon appeared in Middle Earth, she did not have much opportunity to simply lie down and regain consciousness. She was jolted back to consciousness pretty much straight away, by the fact that she suddenly found herself plunged into the icy cold water of a river and completely submerged almost instantaneously.

Her yellow eyes shot open and she accidentally took in a large mouthful of water, coughing as she was whirled over and over in the strong current and quickly tried to regain her bearings. Shaking herself, she was quickly able to identify the surface from the clear light of the Sun filtering down through the water and righted herself towards it, allowing herself to be carried towards the bottom so that when she reached it she thrust up with her legs to shoot back up to the surface.

She cleared the water with a gasp, coughing as she tried to get some of the water in her throat outwards, but she almost immediately found herself dunked back underneath the water by the current. Hacking, she kicked her legs hard and forced herself up to the surface, clearing the water from her eyes with a flick of her head to see that she had landed in the swirling, choppy waters of a long stretch of rapids.

She gritted her fanged teeth in confusion, anger and irritation. She had absolutely no idea what was going on – she had somehow managed to go from night in the Great Hall to day in a river with no memorable transition, and now she could see that she was heading straight for a large rock in the middle of the wide river. With a lurch she threw herself to one side in the water and allowed herself to be carried past the large rock and was swept on downstream by the force of the rapids.

Well, she was damned if she was going to stay here, so she quickly struck out towards the nearest bank, her lithe and powerful body allowing her to crash her way through the rapids, albeit with quite a bit of difficulty on her part. It was hard to make headway in the raging waters, but at least she made some progress through the water, even if it was slow.

And then…

"Mervamon! He…glgglglb!" a high-pitched voice called from just ahead of her and Mervamon's head shot around in its direction, her wet green hair plastering against her face. For a moment she could see nothing, but then she gasped fearfully when she saw a small, pink form clear the surface for a second, flailing his tiny limbs wildly and gasping for air before he was yanked back underneath again.

Cutemon!

"Damn it!" Mervamon cried as she threw herself into the rapids and kicked towards the small bunny-like Digimon as fast as she could.

Cutemon resurfaced again moments later, gasping for air and flailing his arms as he swung around to give Mervamon a pleading glance. "Help!" he wailed. "I can't stay u…glglgb," he vanished underneath the surface again immediately afterwards and Mervamon ploughed herself onwards in a mad attempt to reach him. Cutemon did not have the strength to stay above the water that she had and he was helpless in the grip of the current.

"Hold on, Cutemon!" she cried as she thrust her way through the water, her legs and one proper arm lashing out behind and around her and water fountaining around her as she swam, but the current was even proving difficult for her and seemed to be trying to yank her in every direction except a straight line and even she found herself dunked under the water several times. And all the while the smaller Cutemon was being dragged away from her so she seemed to be gaining comparatively little headway.

She saw his tiny arm waving above the surface and trying to pull himself further upwards to take in more air but he just seemed unable to gain any height as the water kept pushing him away from the surface. With a furious wrench he managed to free his face and gasp for air, but he was plunged back underneath so quickly that he ended up swallowing a lungful of water in the process and retching as he was shoved back underneath.

Mervamon was completely soaked to the skin but she kept swimming, knowing that Cutemon was not going to last much longer. But when it became abundantly clear that she was not going to catch him up this way she quickly wracked her brains for another idea.

She saw another rock jutting out of the middle of the river ahead and she instantly knew the answer, throwing herself into a full-on front crawl as she struck out for the rock. The helpless and now horribly limp form of Cutemon was swept right past the huge boulder, but when Mervamon reached it several seconds later she threw herself against it, grabbing it with her arm and forcibly hauling herself up and out of the current slightly until she was pressed up against the rock and was able to anchor herself in place.

Without pause for thought, Mervamon's eyes snapped over to Cutemon who was being dragged further away by the second. Then, she lifted her enormous snake arm and lashed out with it. The serpentine appendage stretched out and elongated considerably as its head shot out across the water and towards the drowning, if not already drowned, Cutemon with jaws agape.

Mervamon gave a small smirk of triumph as the jaws lashed down and engulfed Cutemon's body completely trapping him between the arm's enormous teeth. Hurriedly she pulled her arm back in, lifting it out of the water as her arm returned to normal length and she quickly brought it up in front of her and to the top of the rock she was gripping with her other arm.

Hoping seemingly against hope that her burden was still alive, Mervamon open the snake-jaws to reveal the little bunny-like Digimon lying still on the bottom jaw, sopping wet and dripping onto the snake's tongue. He was not moving and Mervamon's heart almost stopped when she failed to notice him breathing, so she quickly deposited him on the rock and hauled herself further out of the water to sat precariously astride it as she lifted him up with her hand.

"Damn it, Cutemon. Wake up!" she demanded through gritted teeth she placed him on the head of her snake arm and began to beat gently but firmly on his back with her hand, causing water to come shooting out of his mouth and splatter all over the rock. After a couple of moments of frantic back-slapping, Cutemon suddenly stirred violently, coughing up even more water and bringing his hands to his stomach and groaned as he hacked up what looked like a quarter of the river.

Mervamon sighed in relief and brought the shivering bunny Digimon down to her stomach to hold him close in one arm and try and warm him up. "Oh, you really scared me that time, Cutemon," she breathed. "Next time you decide to go for a swim could you please do it somewhere safer?"

Cutemon coughed and looked up at his much taller saviour with blearily eyes. "Did you…" he trembled, shivering from his experience in the icy water. "Did you… eat me, kyu?"

Mervamon blinked and glanced down at her snake-arm, before she felt a chuckle building up in her chest. "Yes," she murmured. "I guess I kinda did. But it's a good thing I didn't swallow or you would never have been seen again?"

Cutemon giggled weakly. "What a way to be saved, huh kyu? Snatched out of the water by jaws of death."

The snake arm let off a hissing noise of its own accord. "Oh hush," Mervamon told it. "I think it was a very apt description."

"Thank you for saving me, kyu," Cutemon pressed himself against her stomach in as big a hug as his tiny frame could give her. "I would have been dead without you for sure, kyu."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Mervamon chuckled. "Do you think that you have the strength to hold onto me?"

Cutemon coughed again and murmured. "Yeah. Yes, I think so, kyu."

"Good," nodded Mervamon, lifting the small bunny upwards and placing him on her snake-like helmet between the two ridges that stuck out on the top like ears which her long red and sopping wet ribbons were tied to. "Hold on up there as tight as you can – we need to get off this rock and out of the river. We're in unknown territory right now and we're too exposed here."

"Okay, kyu," Cutemon nodded, wrapping his arms around one of the ridges as tightly as he could as Mervamon turned around and slid back into the swirling rapids and struck out for the shore once more, kicking off from the rock as hard as she dared with her little passenger on board.

Though she was still carried some distance downstream in the rapids as she swam sideways, Mervamon as eventually able to reach an eddy of relatively still water and then haul herself out onto the bank where she stood for several moments with arms raised and looking down at herself. Her clothing was sopping, her hair was plastered against her back and just about every part of her seemed to be dripping onto the floor.

"Well I can safely say that this is worse than the time that we fell into Olegmon's Golden Ocean," Mervamon muttered as she took one of her long ribbons and attempted to begin wringing the water out of it.

"Where are we, kyu?" Cutemon asked, looking around them at the trees and the river they had just come out of. "I don't recognise this place. Do you?"

"No, I do not," Mervamon sighed. "But I get the feelings the Code Crown has something to do with our sudden appearance in that river seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Where it sent us though, I just don't know. But everyone was connected to the Code Crown when it flashed so I'm guessing they must all be somewhere around."

"My parents weren't," Cutemon sniffled slightly. "Does that mean that I've been separated from them again, kyu?"

"If your parents were not transported then they should be safe back at the castle," Mervamon pointed out. "It's us we've got to worry about."

"So, what do we do, kyu?" Cutemon asked.

"Well, I suppose that our first order of business is to go looking for some kind of life around here and try to find any sign of the others. And, as we know, the most likely place that we're going to find a settlement is right next to this river."

"Oh yeah, that's what my Mama told me, kyu," Cutemon nodded brightly, flicking his ears to try and get more water off them. "If you get lost, always follow the river if you find one."

"Exactly," nodded Mervamon. "So, as we have nothing better to do at this point, I say we do just that and follow the course of this river. We'll move away slightly so that we can still hear it but I don't want us to be too exposed so we'll walk through the trees where we have a better chance of cover."

"Okay, kyu," Cutemon nodded. "You're the boss."

Mervamon chuckled. "Only until we find Shoutmon," she grinned, lifting her hand and summoning her giant sword into existence to grip it tightly, as she struck out through the forest with the smaller Digimon remaining perched atop her head.

* * *

"Oh… can somebody get the license plate of the Trailmon that just stormed over me?" Revolmon murmured from where he was lying prone on the ground and staring up at the sky, his entire body feeling slightly numb. His large and wide-brimmed hat had fallen off his head and was lying nearby, and the gun-slinging Digimon stared across at it for several moments before he reached across and tried to pick it up.

When he found that he couldn't actually reach it while he was still lying there he just slumped back onto his back for several moments. The sky was borderline blue and borderline dark and cloudy as if there was some kind of large storm brewing overhead, but Revolmon frowned when he noticed that the edge of the darkness seemed almost perfectly flat… as if it was marking some kind of border or something.

Currently, Revolmon was under the blue section of sky, and though he couldn't have told you why, he was strangely quite glad of that fact. The treasure hunter had long learned to trust his instinct though, so he decided that merely lying here probably wasn't a good idea.

Ignoring the complaints in his body, Revolmon pushed himself upwards until his was sitting awkwardly on his backside, the enormous revolver that composed his body sticking out in front of him almost longer than his actual legs did. He quickly leaned out to the side to retrieve his hat yet again and almost rolled completely over in the dirt before he managed to catch himself. But, with a grand, sweeping gesture to nobody in particular, he was able to swish his hat back upwards to place it neatly on his head once again.

Revolmon then had a look around him. He appeared to be in a forested area of some sort, with lots of tall trees that occurred in large bunches with a few larger open spaces running between the various patches of forest. The ground was covered in leaf-litter and the Sun seemed to filter down past the branches as if they were trying to cast the land in golden light but wasn't really succeeding thanks to the large amount of darkness that seemed to be seeping into the picture from the side.

Revolmon looked off the darker side of his vision and fought the urge to swallow at what he saw. A range of extremely tall and very jagged mountains seemed to stick up from the land like the lower jaw of some terrible giant predator. They were dark black and grey in colour and they appeared to be bathed in shadow under the dark cloud that ran across the middle of the sky. Revolmon found himself thinking that he had no desire to go anywhere near those mountains, and not just because of how they looked. _They _felt equally foreboding. In fact they probably felt even more foreboding than they looked.

And then Revolmon looked behind him and he really did swallow and he found himself thanking any lucky stars that he might have that he had not landed about six feet in that direction after he had been deposited here after… whatever had happened had happened.

Because there, lying not two metres away from him, was the giant form of Greymon the enormous dinosaur Digimon.

"Whoa, that was a bit close," Revolmon whistled as he pushed himself to his feet, the spurs on his feet clinking slightly with each step as he slowly made his way around the giant form of the reptilian Digimon and towards his massive, thick-set head.

He was mildly surprised to see that Greymon was already awake, and the much larger Digimon swung his head over to look at him and fixed his large and slightly menacing red eyes on him. "I see you're finally up," he growled but not in an unfriendly way. "Are you uninjured?"

"Yeah, kinda," Revolmon nodded, rubbing his back. "I think that my spine has seen better days but apart from that, I'm just fine and dandy. What's going on here? What happened back there in the throne room? And why are you just lying on the ground instead of getting up to have a look around the area and find out where in existence we are."

"We are in strange territory," Greymon pointed out. "An unfamiliar place. I thought it would be more… prudent to stay with the two of you until one of you recovered enough to look out for the other one, and I suspected that you might be the one to wake up first."

"The two of us?" Revolmon blinked. "First? Who else is here?"

Greymon almost seemed to roll as he shifted his body slightly, moving his arms and his tail aside to reveal another Digimon curled up next to his stomach. A feline Digimon of royalty."

"Hey, it's Bastemon," Revolmon cheered. That quickly turned to concern as he hurried over and stood beside the Digimon Princess. "She's not hurt is she?"

"Of course not," Greymon chuckled. "She's fine. Look at her. She's just sleeping, like she normally does."

Revolmon blinked and looked. And so she was. Bastemon was curled up with her head resting on her hands, her legs tucked underneath her and her two tails wrapped closely around her body. There was a rather content look on her face as she snuggled herself deeper into the ball that she seemed to be trying to turn into and… was she purring?

"Oh boy," Revolmon placed a gloved hand over his face. "This is just typical. Here we are, stuck in the middle of nowhere with the foggiest clue where we are or where any of the others are, and the Princess is still asleep and practically snoring. Typical."

"I don't snore," Bastemon mumbled, making Revolmon blink, as he wasn't completely sure whether Bastemon was actually awake or whether she had said that in her sleep.

Greymon looked up and slowly pushed himself to his feet, clambering upwards onto all four limbs before pushing himself up onto his hind ones to tower over Revolmon and the sleeping Bastemon. His head was able to clear the tops of many of the smaller trees and he had a scan across the horizon in search of anything familiar or significant, but all he could really see was just more trees and the dark mountains in the distance.

"Well this is a fine mess we've landed ourselves in," he murmured to himself. "I want to know what happened back there with the Code Crown. It seems to have decided to send us off to this strange place."

"You don't think it shattered again, do you?" Revolmon questioned. "Do you think it split the Digital World back into Zones again and we're in one of them now… possibly cut off from all of the others."

"I don't know," Greymon growled, immediately taking the practical approach. "But we are not about to find out the answer to that question by just standing around here and waiting for something to find us. I say that we get moving straight away."

"Good call," nodded Revolmon. "I'm with you there."

"Wake up her Highness then," Greymon nodded to the snoozing Bastemon. "Tell her she can ride on my back if she wants to keep napping, but we have to get going and try and find some answers now."

"Okay," nodded Revolmon and leant down to grasp Bastemon's arm and gently shake her. Bastemon made several bleary noises before her eyes slowly open and she looked up at Revolmon sleepily, letting off quite a large yawn in the process and bringing her large, jewelled claws up to her mouth. "What is it?" she murmured. "Is it morning yet? Is Shoutmon going to give a speech?"

"He might be," Revolmon shrugged. "But I don't know who he'll be giving it to. Look alive there, Princess. We're in quite a serious situation here."

"We are," Bastemon moaned as she stretched her arms upwards and her legs downwards. "That's nice. Could you scratch my belly?"

Revolmon blinked, briefly wondering why the heck Bastemon couldn't do that herself before putting it down to her claws being too ridiculously long before he said, "Uh, let me try that again," he sighed. "Don't you remember what happened last night, Princess?"

"Last night?" Bastemon asked, with her eyes still closed. "Sure I do. We were all at the five year anniversary and then Shoutmon gave a statement to us all and we drank a toast to both us and him and then the last thing I remember was… was…"

Revolmon had to resist the urge to chuckle as Bastemon's eyes snapped open when she realised the gravity of the situation and she suddenly sat bolt upright to look around her at the trees wildly.

"What?" she gasped. "Where are we? Why am I not in my bed? And… was I sleeping in the dirt?" she looked down at the patch of leaves that she had curled up on top of as she slept?

"In order," Revolmon chuckled. "I have no idea, same as above and yes, you were. But you're alright. You hardly ever seem to get dirty."

"Revolmon. Greymon," Bastemon noted who was there with her with wide and slightly fearful eyes. "Where is everybody else? And what happened? The last thing I remember was…"

"The Code Crown acting weird?" Revolmon asked. "Yeah, we remember that too. But we both woke up here as well."

"And we have no idea where the others are," Greymon agreed with a nod of his enormous head. "Which is why we must move on, Princess Bastemon. We cannot just lie here and sleep now while we have to find the others. If you want to keep sleeping then you can climb onto my back, but we need to explore this area and try and locate everyone else and quickly."

Bastemon pushed herself to her feet quickly and nodded, her clawed hands coming together in front of her as if to shield herself from the outside world around her in some strange and futile way. She shuddered as she looked over towards the dark peaks in the distance and her keen eyes spotted something that looked like a thin jet of fire or something coming from the distance behind one of the mountains. "I don't like the look of that place," she murmured. "Reminds me of what it felt like at the Great Demon Palace."

"Well, maybe this place has giant mice too," Revolmon attempted a joke, but his heart wasn't really into it. "Anyway, Greymon is right, and the sooner we get away from those mountains the happier I'll be. They give me the creeps."

"I sense something very wrong about them as well," agreed Greymon with a growling snarl.

"Okay," nodded Bastemon. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," Revolmon murmured. "Do you want me to give you a leg up or are you going to walk with us."

"Thanks but I think I'll ride," Bastemon smiled brightly. "After all, I might be able to catch a little bit more sleep up there." Revolmon had to resist the urge to sigh and roll his eyes, and he was genuinely surprised when Bastemon added, "And maybe I can spot some of the others from up high, right?"

"Er… yeah," Revolmon nodded, stepping over to Greymon's leg and placing his hands together. "Up you go then."

"Thank you, Revolmon," Bastemon smiled as placed her foot in the crook of his hands and shimmied upwards, planting her other foot on the top of Revolmon's head and crushing his hat. With surprising agility for a Digimon that spent all its time asleep, Bastemon clambered up Greymon's leg, side and arm and eventually came to rest on his shoulders, leaning over his head and gripping his horns to get a good view around her.

"Come on," Greymon growled. "Let's get going." And he immediately made his way through the trees in the opposite direction to the dark mountains with Bastemon astride him and Revolmon walking alongside him, his long tail writhing out behind him like a snake as he walked, shoving the foliage of various trees aside as he ploughed his way through them.

And, unbeknownst to any of them, a pair of concealed eyes were staring at them from within the bushed of a rise in the ground nearby. Eyes that were under a thin, green hood and over a cloth which covered the lower half of the being's face. It was a man, wearing a long green hooded cloak and darker clothing underneath it to help him blend into the leaves of the bushes and the trees all around him. He had been too far away to hear any of the quiet conversation between the three strange creatures but he definitely knew that these were not natural. He had never seen their like before.

So, as the three of them moved off, he quickly slipped into the bushes and hurried off unseen to report this to his superior officer and his fellow Ithilien Rangers.

* * *

Deckerdramon's big, red eye snapped open when he finally regained consciousness, causing him to wake up with quite a vicious jolt. The enormous, armoured alligator was not as bruised and damaged as several of the other members of the Xros Heart United Army had been when they had woken up due to the thick armour plates that covered the majority of his body, and as soon as he woke up he attempted to move his head and have a look around.

But there was just one problem with this… he was on his side.

Well, not literally on his side, but he was leaning against the edge of a giant furrow in the ground that he seemed to have created when he crash-landed, which was so large that it was as if he had just dug a canal with his body. But that still meant he was at a forty-five degree angle which was far from a useful position to be in for a giant alligator who relied on tank tracks to get around rather than using his feet like… well… feet.

"Oh, well isn't this just peachy?" he muttered to himself in his low, rumbling and slightly echoic voice due to his cavernous jaw which didn't actually open when he spoke. "I thought that the anniversary feast was going so spectacularly until the Code Crown decided to make an appearance like that."

He attempted to crane his neck around to get a better look at his situation, and it didn't seem to be a good one. His left legs were both completely off the ground, while his right legs were only touching it by the smallest of margins. Only a fraction of the tracks on his feet were actually touching anything and Deckerdramon supposed that he could count himself lucky that he was not completely on his side. That would have been quite disastrous for him.

It still could be if he tried to get out of this little jam and it went wrong. His body was not exactly designed for flexibility – it was designed to be a tank. If he fell on his side then that was pretty much it unless something strong enough came his way to flip him over.

But there was nothing else for it but to try and Deckerdramon knew that so he hurriedly began to motor himself forwards through the use of his tracks that were touching the ground.

Slowly, Deckerdramon began to inch his way out of the end of the ditch that he had ended up creating by sliding what appeared to be at least a hundred yards from where he had crashed. As his front half and legs began to get clear of the ditch his eyes narrowed into focus and he swung the only flexible part of him – his tail – to the side and buried the huge hook at the tip into the side of the ditch and pushed against it as hard as he could.

It worked. Tilted precariously at the angle he was, all Deckerdramon's body needed was a nudge in the right direction before he started to fall over the wrong way, and with a thunderous crash, Deckerdramon was able to right himself, his feet slamming into the turf and the tracks doing their job to haul him the rest of the way out of the ditch he had duck and onto relatively flat land, his tail yanking out several large clods of earth from the ground as he went.

Shaking his tail slightly to rid it of globules of earth, Deckerdramon was finally able to get a decent look around. He could see pretty much the same thing that Shoutmon had seen when he finally got moving – large and rolling plains of dried grass and huge hills and outcroppings of rock jutting out all over the place.

Deckerdramon chuckled wryly. "Something tells me that I am a long way from the castle right now," he said to himself. "This does not look like any area of the Digital World that I have ever experienced. It certainly doesn't feel like the Digital World at all."

He slowly moved his body around by rotating the angles of his feet to allow him to swing himself around, but, like Shoutmon, all he saw was a large amount of similar scenery.

However, unlike Shoutmon, Deckerdramon was able to use his thickset body to detect vibrations through the ground, faint though they might have been. And through that, he was able to tell that he was not that far away from a small river, as he could feel the vibrations of its water sliding against the banks.

Having no better plan in mind, Deckerdramon began to roll forwards, his enormous tank tracks handling the lumpy ground and the occasional rock with ease as he trampled everything that his enormous feet rolled over. "Well, let's review this situation," he murmured to himself. "Alone, out in a strange area where anything could be lurking and all of the others missing. I guess there's not much more to do then get moving."

It did not take him very long to reach the river. It was not especially wide for a river, perhaps only as wide as Deckerdramon was from nose to tail, but Deckerdramon still figured that this was his best chance of tracking down somebody else. The river would be a good way of moving around relatively quickly, he would get a good view of the area around him, and there was a strong likelihood that some of the others might have decided to follow this same river.

There was only the problem of direction to pick, and as the river seemed to wind away across a landscape that had no additional features besides the one he had already seen, he decided to go north, and therefore upriver. He had no good reason for this but it was probably better to be decisive than just hang around with no decision at all.

Choice made, the enormous Digimon motored himself slowly into the current of the river, twisting himself around so that he was facing into the flow of the water. The river was reasonably deep, and the moment Deckerdramon's back feet cleared the bank it began to try and carry him backwards down the course of the river, but of course Deckerdramon was far from helpless in the grip of the water.

Different components of his body began to shift to give himself a slightly different basic shape. The huge missile launchers on his back unfolded so that they were standing vertically on either side of his body, while the ridges that comprised his back underneath it began to fold downwards to create a flat surface between the two giant missile launchers which would have acted like a raft to any potential passengers if there was anyone around to be one. He drew his legs closer to his body, tucking them into the niches in his sides that they slotted into, and the gigantic toe sections of his feet folded upwards to make him more streamlined.

And then, Deckerdramon Float Mode started his tracks up again, only now they had folded outwards to create a traction in the water that propelled him forwards as if each foot had a large number of oars attached to its base. Smoothly and swiftly, Deckerdramon proceeded up the river on the surface of the water and, right from the off, his eyes began to roam over the landscape in search of anybody that he knew.

He hoped that he found someone soon because he had absolutely no idea where he was going.

* * *

"Ugh, what hit me?" groaned ChibiKamemon, slowly opening his eyes. He was lying on his side, but his vision was somewhat obscured by a very large tuft of grass in front of him that reached up even taller than he was when he stood on his hind legs. The small turtle-Digimon gritted his teeth, reaching up with his small hand to bop himself on the helmet several times, wincing as he did so when the result was a pounding head. "Ow. I really think I need a better one of these if I'm going to be… what the heck happened anyway?"

Having mostly been protected from too much damage by the hard shell that he possessed around his torso, ChibiKamemon rolled over onto his stomach, though he had to swing himself a couple of times to pull the side of his shell out of the ground and when it did, it did so with a horrible, sucking plop noise. ChibiKamemon shook his head and brought his legs forwards to try and help him sit up, but when he took a look around him he discovered that he was not alone.

Dondokomon was lying prone next to him, practically seeming to be passed out on his back, and Lunamon could be seen a short distance away, lying on her front. Evidently she had been lucky because her head was hanging over the edge of a bank and her face was hovering inches above the water next to it. Any further forwards and she could have gone plunging in.

When ChibiKamemon got a look around him… he couldn't help but shiver. And he had no idea why really. They appeared to be in some kind of giant swamp area – one that he was not familiar with. As he pushed himself to his feet and had a look around he could see a patchwork of still and slightly thick-looking water filled with algae and other plant material and dry land that was composed of large grass tufts and rather gloopy earth. Yep, this was definitely a marsh.

But ChibiKamemon had never been in a marsh that felt so… eerie before. There was a sense of extreme stillness in the air the there was absolutely no sound around him other than that of his own breathing and for some reason the extreme lack of noise and movement all around him made ChibiKamemon feel incredibly edgy. It reminded him uncomfortably of NeoVamdemon's Vampire Land and the chills that that had been constantly sending down his spine, and that had not ended well. After all, they had been attacked by hundreds of immortal vampire Digimon.

ChibiKamemon also noticed that there seemed to be quite a few random plumes of fire burning around the place, but the more he looked at them the more unnerved he got. Largely because the fire was not spreading. There was a lot of grass right next to the flames which should be catching alight as the flames spread across the ground but the little patches of fire just… sat there. Doing nothing.

ChibiKamemon quickly decided to put on of them out with a jet of water because it was unnerving him so much.

Three seconds later and the flame seared back into life, slightly larger than before.

ChibiKamemon was seized by an overwhelming desire to get out of this creepy, evil place, so he quickly turned around and shook Dondokomon. "Hey, get up," he urged. "Come on, wake up. We've got to get going quickly."

The drum Digimon groaned as he woke up and ChibiKamemon hauled on his drumsticks to get him into a sitting position. "Aaww, my head hurts," Dondokomon complained, looking upwards as if trying to see the top of his drum and make sure that it wasn't torn or something. He quickly lifted up his arms and drummed himself on the top of the head once with each of them, producing a couple of low beats that sounded right, but also causing him to wince and yelp. "Ow. That hurt."

"Well don't bash yourself on the head with a pair of sticks if it hurts then," ChibiKamemon advised as he went over towards Lunamon.

"Don't bash myself in the head?" Dondokomon cried indignantly." Are you listening to yourself? I'm a drum Digimon. If I can't play my own instrument, which _is_ actually me, then what am I?"

"Sensible?" ChibiKamemon suggested.

"Oh very funny," Dondokomon snorted as he clambered to his feet and tried to rub his sore head with his drumsticks. "Where are we anyway?"

"I don't know but we've gotta go," ChibiKamemon shuddered. "This place gives me the creeps. Lunamon. Hey, Lunamon. Wake up. We've got to get moving." He knelt down to tap the small white Digimon on the shoulder and try and shake her awake.

Lunamon groaned. "Five more minutes," she murmured groggily. "I don't feel well."

"Me neither but we've got to go. I don't like this place at all."

"What's with the fires?" Dondokomon asked, eyeing one of the flames that stood nearby quite edgily.

"Look I don't know the answer to any of these questions," ChibiKamemon replied as he turned around and kept trying to pull the stirring Lunamon up. "I have no clue where we are or what this place is, but something is wrong about it. And before you ask, I don't know the answer to that eit…"

ChibiKamemon nearly jumped clean out of his shell when Lunamon pushed herself to her hands and knees and finally opened her eyes, found herself staring out at the water in front of her and instantly let out an ear-splitting shriek of pure terror that practically froze the souls of both the other two Digimon where they stood. Both of them leapt backwards with yelps of fear and Lunamon fell onto her back, scrambling away from the water's edge as quickly as she could, eyes wide and filled with dread, her face a solid mask of fear and horror and her whole body trembling furiously.

"What? What? What is it?" Dondokomon cried in near-panic, collapsing back onto his base and breathing heavily as he looked wildly around him for something that might cause Lunamon so much distress.

"Lunamon, what's wrong?" ChibiKamemon asked.

Lunamon's head just slowly turned towards him to fix her eyes, which were giving off a haunted and hollow look that implied that Lunamon's mind had just been deeply scarred by something before she lifted up a trembling hand and pointed towards the water that she had been lying next to. ChibiKamemon glanced over to it and, swallowing nervously, he inched forwards to try and get a better view. Dondokomon clambered back up and joined him, and the both of them had no idea what they were about to see, but somehow they got the feeling that they didn't want to.

And they were right.

Both of their eyes shot open in sheer terror when they saw the ghastly, pale body lying in the water. A body that was quite clearly dead and had been for some time. It was the body of a human – an adult human – and its face seemed to be staring in their direction with sightless eyes.

Both of them instantly backpedalled and fell beside Lunamon with extremely similar reactions, their hearts freezing over as the previous chills from before intensified by a thousand-fold. Panicked, Dondokomon yelled and instantly dashed off, but his foot sank in a muddy patch and he almost fell into another patch of water… where another dead body was lying. It might have been Dondokomon's imagination but he could swear the thing was watching him even though its eyes were shut and it was looking straight up. But all he could do was scream and throw himself backwards, scrabbling across the ground on his base like a person possessed.

The turtle, the drum and the white rabbit's hearts were all pounding and the three of them huddled together, back to back and staring out across the enormous quagmire that stretched out all around them. All of them wanted to be anywhere but here… but such was their intense fear that they all knew they would not be able to muster the courage to move for a very long time. The candle-like flames continued to flicker around them, more sinister looking than ever and the only sound remained the laboured and panicked breathing of three terrified souls.

* * *

When Golemon woke up, he found that he had been half buried under several enormous boulders that were just about as large as he was, and the gigantic stone Digimon definitely did not like that. His body was still un-bruised and undamaged by whatever had happened, so the moment he woke up he was ready to go and go he did, rearing back one giant fist and sending it crashing into the massive rock that was trying to press down on him.

The boulder was sent flying in an instant, splitting into two uneven pieces as it was launched through the air as if it had been fired from an enormous catapult. Golemon snorted to himself and then took stock of the rest of his situation as the boulder halves crashed to the floor a couple of hundred yards away and kicked up dust.

He appeared to be in a crater of some kind – a crater in the side of a mostly vertical surface which could technically make it a cave or something and Golemon had the strangest feeling that he had created this crater with his own body when he had crashed into it, not least because the stonework he was leaning against felt crushed and splintered underneath his back and there appeared to be a large amount of rocky debris underneath and around his hulking form. His lower half was still partially buried in large rocks, but that quickly changed when Golemon reached out to grasp the side of the crater and hauled himself to his, wrenching his legs out of the rubble around him with grunts before stamping down on it for good measure and reducing it to pebbles.

His head, turning from side to side, Golemon could see that he was right. He was standing just above the base of a mountain which he appeared to have crashed straight into like some kind of meteorite. Before him appeared to be a landscape mostly composed of rocky hills and trees that was surrounded by grassland and as he looked to the side he could see that the mountain he had crashed into was part of a large range that stretched away into the distance in both directions.

Golemon snorted and briefly wondered where the others were, but his surprisingly practical brain quickly rectified that they weren't here and instead of wondering what he was going to do next or how he had got here, he simply stepped out of the crater and began to blunder slowly down the mountain. After all, there was no sense in hanging around here where there was nothing of interest to him, was there?

* * *

"Guys, seriously, hold still!" a Gaossmon perched on top of a boulder cried as all the other Gaossmon milled around one another. "I'm trying to a headcount and it doesn't help when all of you guys mix around like that. We all look identical, you know. Now… twenty-two… or was it twenty-three? Ugh, I've lost count. Let me start again."

The Gaossmon had all woken up a short while ago and many of them had found themselves in one enormous pile of jumbled legs and tail and it had taken them quite a while for everyone to extricate themselves from the bundle, until they were all standing around, looking about at the green plains they had landed on in confusion and talking among themselves, trying to see if any of them had any idea what had just happened and where they were.

As they had thought, none of them did, nor did any of them have any suggestions.

Now, they all stood still and allowed their self-elected leader to count them all and make sure they were all there, which was hard for him to do without hands to pick off everyone he counted.

Eventually though he got to the end of the headcount – "Sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven… sixty-seven? There's supposed to be sixty-eight of us? Oh no! We've lost one! As anyone seen our sixty-eighth member?"

"Did you count yourself?" one of them piped up.

"Oh yeah," the leader blinked, and then sighed in relief. "Sorry, panic averted. I think that we're all here unless I got the count wrong… Should I start again?"

"No!" chorused many voices all at once.

"What are we going to do now?" one of the ones in the middle of the group called out. "What happened to the King and all the others?"

"I don't know," the one on the rock attempted to shrug his shoulders but it didn't really work. "I don't have any of the answers that you guys are looking for. But… well, I guess that we just get moving and see what we can find. But let's remember to all stay together, alright? We don't want any of us to get lost do we?"

"No," many voices murmured as all the little Digimon seemed to huddle closer together.

"Alright," the leader nodded. "Well, I guess we just… pick a direction. Let's go this way! It's as good as any other way at this point," and he turned around and bounded off the rock to dashed South, with the rest of the Gaossmon pack following on like a swarm of giant ants, the sound of their clawed feet pounding the ground at a near constant rate accompanying them as they went.

* * *

It took a few moments for the eyes of the two Bombmon to adjust to the darkness around them. When they finally did, all the two of them could see was dark, rocky walls and ceiling all around them which seemed to indicate that they had landed in a cave of some sort. And there was a faint, orange glow coming from up ahead, though neither of them had any idea what it might be.

"Get lost, you bloody rodent!" one of the Bombmon was yelling at a rather inquisitive rat that had tried to nibble on the fuse on top of its head. "Or I'll explode in your face and see how you like an eyeful of bang!" He threw himself at the rat and smacked into its head with his body, causing it to squeak loudly and hurry away, deciding it wasn't worth getting into a fight with this one.

"Ha! That showed him!"

"Sshh. Keep it down," the other Bombmon murmured. "Can't you hear that? There are noises coming from up ahead?"

"There are?" the first Bombmon frowned and listened for a couple of moments. And sure enough, he could definitely here lots of clanging coming from the direction of the orange glow. "Oh yeah. What the heck is that?"

"How should I know?" the second Bombmon frowned. "You wanna check it out?"

"Of course," the first one grinned, and the two of them bounced their way down the thin corridor and peered out from behind a rock.

What they saw took their breath away – enormous caverns that stretched upwards and were open to the sky above, huge crevices in the walls that were filled with burning flames, giant anvils with disgusting looking humanoid creatures pounding molten metal into spiky shapes against them, huge amounts of smoke drifting upwards at a constant rate as more of the creatures hurled giant blocks of wood into the fire. The creatures bustled around, screeching and laughing raucously and snarling at one another pretty much constantly, while several others in the distance were pulling giant clumps of what appeared to be mud out of the walls, only to peel the mud away to reveal tall, thrashing, growling creatures had been inside and were pulling them to their feet.

"Hoo boy…" one of the Bombmon murmured. "That's… different."

"You can say that again," the other one nodded. "Just what have we landed ourselves in this time?"

* * *

Well, there you have it. All the Digimon that featured in this chapter are going to be the ones that are more closely involved with the events of the books and the films, while all the Digimon that have yet to be mentioned will be fighting in the other areas of Middle Earth which were not covered in either but which were in some of the games, though I'll be drawing elements from many different games together to create the story of the War in the North.

I hoped you liked this chapter. There was only one Digimon that really got to interact with the people of Middle Earth and it was not the best of encounters, but they'll all get there eventually, you mark my words.

* * *

Next time…

Kinda obvious really. The rest of the Digimon of the Xros Heart United Army also wake up to find themselves in strange and dangerous locations around the north of Middle Earth and set about looking for their friends. Where will they be? And what will they find?

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 7 : The North**


	7. The North

Hullo again all. I am now here to give you the second instalment of the chapters that I introduces the rest of the Xros Heart United Army to the world where they will be staying for the foreseeable future. Again there is very little action in this chapter but it should at least still be entertaining. I hope you all enjoy the read.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 7:- The North**

* * *

When Lillymon opened her eyes, she had about half a second of panic when she found that everything around her was still pitch black, making her wonder if she had suddenly gone blind. This caused her to immediately surge upwards into a sitting position, which caused a great panging in her head that made her flinch as she lifted her hands up to the petals that covered her ivy-like hair and pressed the edges of her fingers to her forehead.

She couldn't feel any bruising, and she supposed that that made her quite lucky after… after…

What had happened anyway? The Code Crown had done something funny. Last thing she remembered was staring down at the funny stand of land that was connecting to her chest right where her heart would be to the Code Crown, then a flash of blinding light, and then nothing but waking up to no sight and a panging head.

Could the flash of light have somehow caused her to lose the ability to see?

She opened her eyes a second time, having closed them instinctively when she had flinched at the panging in her head, and it was to her great relief that she discovered that she was _not_ blind. She was just underneath the _incredibly_ dense canopy of some very thick forest, where the leaves above her melded so thickly together that only the most fractional amounts of sunlight had been able to filter through and fall to the forest, making most everything around her appear completely monochrome.

The reason she hadn't been able to see at all the first time was because she was lying against one of the extremely gnarled trees and facing its large and thick buttress roots that had nothing but complete darkness beneath them.

Lillymon quickly checked herself over for any injuries. Her legs and arms appeared to fine except for a slight scrape on one knee which would probably take about ten minutes for a Digimon to heal and her pink petal dress was covered in grime which she quickly began to brush off. But then, when she checked her four leaf-like wings, she was startled to find that one of them had been bent about halfway down its length and its top half was now folded at an awkward angle.

Hurriedly she reached up and straightened it out placing her fingers around the bent section to try and keep the wing as rigid as possible. She knew that this wouldn't be a permanent problem and that in a couple of hours or so the wing would be as good as new as long as she kept it relatively straight – even faster if she could get some access to decent sunlight to help her absorb more energy. But she knew that until it did heal over it would be best to stay on the ground, as attempting to use it would only make it worse.

So, making sure that her wing stayed straight, she brought her two top wings and two bottom wings together and pressed them up against each other and then folded all four down against her back like those of a beetle or some other insect. That would ensure that her wing stayed straight. She supposed she should be counting her lucky stars. Her wings were surprisingly tough for such fragile-looking structures so to have bent one like that she must have landed on it, bent it beneath her body and been lying on it while folded for some time.

At least it had not been torn off completely. It would never grow back if that happened.

The situation with her wing now sorted, Lillymon clambered to her feet and stepped around the thick tree trunk to have a look at the landscape around her. And she did not like what she saw.

Normally she liked forests. She was a plant Digimon after all – liking nature and growing things was part of the job description. But for some reason this forest really put her on edge, and not just because it was dark. Although the darkness played quite a significant factor because it was not just dark… it was… murky.

The shadows at the bases of the trees almost seemed to congeal as if they were alive and trying to be as dark and scary as possible. Lillymon almost couldn't see the sides of her own boots such was the darkness that lurked on the ground. She shivered. The mere idea of darkness itself trying to _lurk_ was an unpleasant idea, but it seemed like a very apt description of what this darkness was doing. The shadows stretched up the trunks of each of the trees and bathed absolutely everything in its shadow, as if it was deliberately trying to make sure that as little light as possible could be found in the area.

And then there were the trees themselves. When Lillymon pictured a tree she either pictured a small and slender structure covered in young leaves and practically glowing green in the light of the sun that represented the beauty of nature or a massive, towering hulk with a thick and strong trunk holding itself up and rising far above the ground which represented the strength and the fortitude of nature.

These trees, on the other hand were neither. They were all large but they didn't look strong. They looked incredibly twisted and gnarled and old, jutting out at all sorts of angles that looked completely unnatural as if they couldn't make up their minds on where they were supposed to be growing. Their only leaves were at the tops of the canopy. And other leave closer to the bottom would be a waste of time considering the lack of light, so the branches just stuck outwards like clawed, crooked hands that might try and snare a passer-by.

And then there was just the general feel of the place. For some reason, Lillymon felt as though something was crawling up her back underneath her dress and wings. She shuddered and shifted but the feeling abated only marginally.

Just as she was deciding what to do next there was a creaking of branches behind her and she whirled around, instinctively bringing her hands close together in case she was attacked. "Hello?" she called, her voice seeming to hang in the air rather than going anywhere. "Is someone there?"

There was a second of silence before three swift blurs darted down from the tops of the trees, hopping from branch to branch so fast that Lillymon could barely keep track of them before they landed on the ground and resolved themselves into all three green Monitamon – the elite ones that had been with Nene Amano since before Taiki had even met her.

"Lillymon," one of them acknowledged her with blatant relief. "At last, a friendly face. We've been wandering around aimlessly for some time and wondering where everybody is."

"We woke up to find ourselves here in this forest," said another one. "And there was nobody else around so we eventually decided to go looking. You're the first person we've found."

"You're the first _anything_ we've found except trees and darkness," the third said dryly.

Lillymon had been struggling to hide her relief at the fact that the Monitamon had not been something more threatening, as well as the fact that she now had company, and she quickly recovered herself and said, "You… haven't seen anyone else at all?"

"Nope. Just you," the second Monitamon sighed, displaying a sad-face emoticon on his screen. "Nobody else. We feared that we had lost everyone."

"Well, we kinda had," the first one pointed out. "But at least we've found somebody now."

"Yes," Lillymon nodded, trying to ignore the worry inside her. "And at least the three of you are safe and unharmed. You _are_ unharmed right?"

"Yes," E-Monitamon-1 nodded. "Though we did wake up to find ourselves lying on top of each other and it took a while to wake him up," he pointed at "E-Monitamon-3.

"It's not my fault I was squished beneath you two," he grumbled.

"And what about you?" E-Monitamon-2 asked. "Are you undamaged?"

"Mostly," Lillymon sighed. "One of my wings is slightly bent but it should be fine in a couple of hours. But it means that I can't go flying around for a while."

"Well at least it wasn't something more serious then," E-Monitamon-1 observed.

"Yeah," Lillymon nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"So, now that we've found someone, what are we supposed to do?" E-Monitamon-3 asked, looking around warily. "I don't know about you, but this forest really gives me the creeps and we still don't even know where we are, where anyone else is, or even how we got to this… freaky place. What are we going to do next?"

Lillymon bit her lip and looked around at the dark forest again nervously, not entirely sure how to answer any of the Monitamon's questions. But she knew one thing – there friends all had to be somewhere around. All of them had been connected to the Code Crown in the same way that she and the three Monitamon had. So, logically, they must have been zapped away somewhere as well. She just hoped it was close by.

They needed to try and find Shoutmon and the others as quickly as possible. Because there was definitely safety in numbers and when you were in a strange, unfamiliar place that meant that there was a strong likelihood of there being strange and unfamiliar dangers there with it.

"Um… okay," she put in. "I… I don't really…have much of a plan but… we should definitely stick together. There's no telling how long it would take to find each other again in this forest. But if we walk on and try and find the others now then we can wait until my wing gets better and then when it does I can fly us out of here to cover more ground faster. I should be able to carry all three of you if I need to, though it might be a bit awkward."

"Well, I don't have a better plan," E-Monitamon-1 shrugged his shoulders.

"If we had a better plan we would have used in by now," E-Monitamon-2 agreed. "So, which direction are we going in?"

"Well… since you guys came from _that_ direction," she nodded back the way that the three of them had come from. "I say we keep going that way," she pointed north. "We might be more likely to find someone there than places you've already been."

"Good idea," nodded E-Monitamon-1. "Shall we go?"

"Might as well," Lillymon murmured, and as the Monitamon took to the trees and began to hop swiftly from branch to branch like the ninjas they were, Lillymon began to walk along in the same direction. She couldn't help but hope that they found the edge of this forest quickly. It was still giving her the jitters.

* * *

When Starmon came to, he found that his mouth was filled with dirt, sand and a couple of pebbles, which was perhaps one of the least pleasant sensations that he had had ever woken up to. As a Digimon who's only limbs were four of his five pointed nubs that gave him his star shape which were usually splayed rigidly out to his sides unless he wanted to use them for something like picking up food, he was quite literally lying spread-eagled on his front and his face was pressed into the ground.

He immediately pushed himself up and spat out the offending mouthful of foul ground material, hacking and spraying it all across the ground and spitting several times to try and get out the flecks of sand which were clinging rigidly to the inside of his mouth. As he did so, he vaguely took note of the fact that he was surrounded by prone Pickmon, some of which were pushing themselves to their feet, but before he could really process the information he heard the sound of flowing water coming from behind him.

He quickly whirled around and spotted that whatever it was that had happened to them had caused them to land beside a wide looking river. Starmon had always been someone who acted before he thought things through and so he quickly sprang all the way up to his feet and threw himself forwards, over the top of two of the Pickmon and into the water.

He quickly sucked in a huge mouthful of the river to wash out the insides of his mouth and expelled it quickly to squirt out the rest of the horrible sand, and he did this a couple more times before he was finally satisfied and relieved of the scratchy substance.

It was only then that he realised that perhaps jumping in a river had not been such a good idea because he was now being washed right down its course in the current. He gulped in panic and thrashed as he tried to get to the surface but his little points were not exactly useful as paddles. As he did so he twisted around and spotted that several Pickmon had dutifully followed him into the river and were no in the same predicament.

He almost sighed even though he was underwater. Sometimes the blind loyalty of his corps was very much not a good thing – like now for instance.

But before Starmon could be swept away and run out of breath and drown, a large, wide sword was plunged into the river in front of him, causing him to collide with the flat of the blade and be pinned there by the current. The Pickmon all also collided with the sword, which then tilted upwards and scooped them out of the river as if it was some kind of strange ladle.

Gasping for breath as he resurfaced, Starmon looked up at his saviour and a grin appeared on his face when he found himself looking at the hefty, armoured form of Knightmon. The tall, humanoid Digimon shook his head and chuckled as he shifted his sword downwards to deposit Starmon and the Pickmon down on the bank.

"You know," he said, "I believe that the phrase 'look before you leap' should be reworded into 'look… _and think_… before you leap.' Next time just try shovelling water into your mouth from the edge."

"Eh-heh," Starmon chuckled as pushed himself back onto his feet-points. "Sorry, brother. But at least you were here to save me right?"

"Well yes, but I might not be around next time," Knightmon pointed out. "It's a good thing I was here _this_ time too, because if you look around you'll probably notice that most of our comrades are not."

"Huh?" Starmon blinked, glancing around. The river bank around them was rocky and sandy and beyond it there seemed to be nothing but grassland on their side of the river while on the other side there was a large-looking forest that appeared as a distant smudge on the horizon. But Starmon could see that Knightmon was right.

There were a large number of beings here on the bank… but not that many different types. Knightmon stood tall and reassuring over everyone else, and Starmon could see the ten PawnChessmon that followed him faithfully all over the place were also moving dutifully around and trying to wake up the various Pickmon that were still out of it. But other than there was nobody else in sight.

"Where are all our brothers?" Starmon cried. "Where's Shoutmon and Ballistamon and all the others? Shouldn't they be here too?"

"I am afraid that I do not know," Knightmon sighed. "I do not even know where 'here' is, and I certainly don't know how we got here. I do not recognise this river, which means we could be in unchartered territory… if we are even in the Digital World anymore."

Starmon gulped and he quickly hurried over to where the Pickmon were lying sprawled and dotted around the place. Most of the Pickmon were of the silver variety, but there were also a large number of white ones, and the one red Pickmon was also there, leaning against a rock and looking quite dazed. "Is everyone okay?" Starmon asked. "Are all of the corps here?"

"We think so," said one of the Pickmon that had jumped in the river as he toddled up behind Starmon. "We did a quick count while you were still out of it, brother and we think that we counted everybody unless we counted somebody more than once."

"Well, that's a good thing, I suppose," Starmon murmured.

"I performed a… pick-count… as well," Knightmon nodded. "There are supposed to be fifty-one of you, aren't there – forty silver ones, ten white ones and a red one?"

"Yeah, that's right, brother!" Starmon nodded.

"Well, that is what I managed to count," Knightmon confirmed. "Don't worry, all of your corps are still together at least."

"Great," Starmon cheered. "But don't we need to go and find everyone else now?"

"I think that we need to find _us_ first," one of the PawnChessmon remarked as he looked over and pushed up his visor to reveal his yellow eyes underneath as he helped another Pickmon to his feet. "What are we supposed to do now, Lord Knightmon?"

"Yeah, we've gotta do something," Starmon agreed, bouncing up and down on the spot energetically and flinging off the last drops of water still hanging from his body in the process. "We can't just sit here all day long, can we?"

"No, we cannot," Knightmon agreed.

"So what do we do?" the red Pickmon asked in his slightly nasal voice as he levered himself into a standing position.

"There is only one thing that we can do – strike out and hope that we are lucky enough to find some of our comrades quickly," Knightmon replied tightly, stowing his large sword back at his side. He sighed and added, "We must move quickly. I fear for the safety of some of the other members of the group and the sooner I find Princess Bastemon and resume my task of guarding her then the happier I will be."

"What if we cannot find the Princess?" one of the PawnChessmon whimpered slightly. "What do we do then?"

"We keep looking," Knightmon said firmly. "I swore a solemn vow to protect her, as did all of you PawnChessmon. And until we have obtained proof that she is dead then we will continue to try and fulfil that vow and return to our posts by her side. And we must locate the rest of the members of the United Army as well. The sooner we are all brought together then the happier I will be."

"Don't worry too much, brother," Starmon hopped over to Knightmon's side. "I'm sure that Bastemon will be alright. Maybe she's with some of the others now."

"I can only hope," Knightmon nodded grimly. He was as devoted to Princess Bastemon as any Knight should be to their royalty, and it was his solemn duty to protect her. Bastemon was not much of a fighter. The only time she had really gone on the offensive had been against the giant mouse Digimon, Chuchumon and Knightmon couldn't help but fear for her safety. His oaths would not allow him to do anything else, never mind his more genuine dedication.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Starmon bounded into the air, full of beans as usual. "Let's go brothers!"

"YAY!" chorused the Pickmon as they bounded upwards as well and the whole group began to wander upriver at the same time. Knightmon chuckled after a moment and then followed on, the PawnChessmon falling in step beside him and gripping their little lances in preparation for any potential attacker. Knightmon too kept a sharp eye out, one hand resting on his sword handle just in case.

* * *

"Go ahead. I dare you. Run up and poke it."

"You run up and poke it! Why should I be the one who runs up and pokes it?"

"Because I was the one who dared you first, so if you don't do it then that means you're a wimp."

"Well so what if I am? I don't even know what that thing is. Mum always says to leave strange things alone because they could be dangerous and if they're not dangerous then they have nothing to do with us."

"So you're saying you are a wimp. Look at it. It's dead. You saw it fall out of the sky earlier – there's no way that it can still be alive. So what's stopping you?"

"How do you know it's dead? It doesn't even look like a living thing – it's made of metal."

"Well then you really are a wimp."

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Sparrowmon's eye twitched as the sounds of this conversation reached her ears and she had to suppress a groan at the throbbing sensation that she could feel in her nose. She felt like she had ploughed straight into the ground, and when she realised that she was lying prone she realised that there was a strong likelihood she had.

Still, she didn't lift her head and look around. She could hear the conversation and she had no idea what was doing the talking, but it was coming from right next to her so she had no doubt that they were talking about her. And it seemed they thought she was dead so whatever they were she decided to feign it until she could ascertain whether they were a threat or not.

Though she had to admit that considering their choices of words and their relatively high-sounding voices that they certainly did not sound particularly threatening. But it never hurt to make sure first. It also told her that whatever these things were, they clearly didn't know much about Digimon, for when a Digimon died their bodies dispersed into data. And that was cause for her to worry.

"I am _not_ going to go any closer than this, Sancho" one of the voices said. "Why haven't we gone to get the grown-ups anyway? They should know if some strange… thing has fallen into our countryside instead of us just standing there and staring at it."

"They won't do anything about it," the other voice, Sancho, scoffed. "But if you're not going to do anything then I will. Here, give me that."

Sparrowmon tensed slightly as she heard the whatever-it-was walking towards her with extremely soft and very slow footfalls, until it had drew level with the tip of her pointed wing. Sparrowmon kept up her frozen position, listening hard to what the stranger tried to do next. Then, very slowly, she felt something slightly sharp, like a pointed stick, poking her in the side of the neck.

It didn't hurt, so it was easy for Sparrowmon to keep up her position without giving herself away. But then the voice laughed and said, "See. I told you its dead. There's nothing to worry about – look." And then Sparrowmon felt a slightly more painful poke right in the side of her face, inches from her eye. _That_ caused her eye to snap open and stare widely at the person standing next to her, which instantly backpedalled with a cry of fear.

It looked like… a human child. But… at the same time… not quite. It was much shorter than Nene and the others had been – even shorter than Yuu. Its ears were slightly pointed, its hair was a lot more curly than any human she had seen and it wasn't wearing any shoes – it just had bare feet with relatively thick soles and… a lot of hair on the top.

"Ah! It's awake!" the first one cried. "Quick! Get the adults!"

"I told you, Sancho!" yelled the other voice, which belonged to a similar child and they both pelted away down the hill in a helter-skelter fashion. Sparrowmon blinked as she watched them flee, and then momentarily giggled to herself before she activated the repulsors in her wings to left her off the ground and hover above the hill she appeared to have landed on.

Sparrowmon had always been a roamer. He fast flying capabilities had made her an ideal scout for Xros Heart and she had flown of a very large amount of the Digital World since Shoutmon had become King to make sure that everywhere was still relatively peaceful and there was no uprising of trouble. But this… this was a place that she did not recognise.

It seemed to consist mostly of rolling green hills that stretched away into the distance, with lush green grass that made the place seem like one enormous meadow. Except for the fact that just about every hill as far as Sparrowmon could make out also appeared to be a house. There were large, round doors set in the side of the hill with fences extending around the base, and each fence was filled with lots of beautiful flowers and other healthy looking plants. Thin roads ran between the hills and straight to the gates of each of the dwellings and not far away there was an area where that looked like a town-square, with a bustling market and a several beautifully made buildings surrounding its edges.

Sparrowmon could see people too – quite a few of them actually, moving about in the thick crops and tenderly cultivating them, moving wheelbarrows along the roads filled with various vegetables and carrying around platters of pastry and other tasty looking treats or even leading around and tending to various animals. The only thing was… none of them were taller than three and a half feet. Even the older looking ones!

Sparrowmon could instantly tell that this was a peaceful place and right now the first thing that flashed into her mind was that she wished Nene could see it. Nene would have loved this place – she loved flowers for one thing. And for another, she also couldn't see how anyone who came here could _not_ love the feel of the place as well as the scenery.

But, there was one thing that the scenery was lacking:-

Her friends.

Sparrowmon did a complete circuit and yet she couldn't see anything that looked vaguely like another Digimon, and that worried her. It was obvious that the humanoid creatures that she was seeing were not Digimon… but if they were humans then the human race had shrunk since she had last visited their world. Or she had grown.

And since she seriously doubted that either of those things had occurred then that meant that she was mostly likely…

No, she couldn't be out of the Digital World entirely could she? Really? And could this really be the human world or was it… somewhere else.

The thought frightened her but before she could dwell on it she heard the sounds of commotion coming from near the base of the hill. The two tiny children creatures were hurrying back and pointing up at her and behind them was a small crowd of adults… or at least Sparrowmon assumed they were adults because they certainly looked like them despite the fact they were not as tall as any of the human adults she had seen in her brief period of time in the human world.

And they were armed.

Admittedly the only thing that they had for weapons were rakes and tills and other pieces of farm equipment but still the fact that they were wielding them in the manner they were meant that they were hostile. And yet Sparrowmon could see the fear on their faces as they made their way up the hill slowly towards her, holding their weapons in front of them as if they would act as good shields as well as offensive weapons.

They clearly had no idea what to do in this kind of situation, but since this was their home and Sparrowmon was an intruder, they seemed to be willing to defend it.

"Now… now… look here you!" one of them cried nervously as he was pushed further forward by the rest of the group. "Get out of here. You… you will not be claiming any of our lives today, you hear? You won't… be devouring any of us if we have anything to say about it!"

"Devouring?" Sparrowmon blinked, causing them to hesitate – evidently they had not expected her to speak. "You think I'm going to eat you? Do I look like I prey on the innocent? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"I… I er…" the speaker murmured as all the short people glanced at one another in confusion and uncertainty. But then he turned back round and said, "Well… how do we know that we can trust your word. It's been a long time since anything came here to threaten us – you could be trying to… to lull us into a false sense of security, maybe."

Sparrowmon rolled her eyes, knowing that she didn't really have the time to just sit there and argue with this guy. "Believe whatever you want," she said. "Just tell me, have you seen any other strange creatures recently? Like, red lizards, orange wolf-things, big blue robots… that kind of thing?"

"Robot? What is a robot?" one of the people frowned.

Sparrowmon sighed. "Never mind," she said. "You haven't seen anything strange or out of the ordinary at all?"

"Not before you," the first speaker said, holding his rake before him defensively.

"Fine," Sparrowmon shrugged. "Then I guess there's no point in me hanging around here. I need to go and find my friends so I'll get out of your curly hair now."

"Huh? Really?" the speaker asked.

"Yep," Sparrowmon grinned. "See ya!" And she shot forwards without warning and zipped over the heads of the startled villagers and zoomed away into the air, reducing herself to a small yellow dot in their vision as she did so before whooshing off across the sky in search of the others

* * *

Sparrowmon was not the only avian Digimon that had just woken up. Despite his thick, blue armour, MailBirdramon was only just regaining consciousness himself, lifting up his small, pointed head and shaking it profusely, wondering what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered after the Code Crown had acted up had been… well nothing really.

His small, yellow eyes opened to take a look around and when he saw where he was, he blinked. He appeared to be about half-way up a mountain, his head dangling over the edge of an enormous precipice that stretched down into darkness right below him, and there were several huge mountains rising up around him as far as his eagle-like vision could see, encrusted with snow and jagged in the sky like great fangs.

And not only that, but there appeared to be a thin layer of mist around the area, meaning the MailBirdramon couldn't quite get a measure of how big whatever mountain range he had suddenly found himself in was. Though the Sun was beating down above them and appeared to be trying to break its way through the mist to reveal a little more of his surroundings.

MailBirdramon grunted and wondered where he might be. The nearest mountains to the castle were miles and miles away and he was pretty sure that he hadn't flown all the way out here himself unless he had had a sudden case of amnesia. Plus, these didn't look like any of the mountain ranges back home that he knew.

"How in the name of the Code Crown did I get here?" MailBirdramon murmured as he tried to push himself to his feet, only to find moving in any fashion extremely difficult for some reason. He craned his head around look behind him and blinked.

"Oh, wonderful," he growled.

He was completely _covered_ in snow… as in he couldn't actually see any of his own body from beneath his long snake-like neck. He appeared to be on a large ledge around half-way up the mountain and the entire ledge seemed to be one giant pile of snow that had built up of the top of him since he had been lying there for however long. And not only that, there was a boulder about two-thirds as big as he was currently lying on one of his wings and pressing it down against the surface of the ledge, and several not-quite-as-large but still big ones lying across his back and his tail.

They, combined with the weight of the snow itself, meant that MailBirdramon was effectively pinned to the ledge.

"This just raises further questions," MailBirdramon muttered to himself as he looked up at the rest of the mountain he was somehow mysteriously on. He could see a large crater in the side that implied something very large had crashed straight into it and the snow all around the crater sight and some way above it had been shaken loose, as well as several large fragments of the mountain himself.

MailBirdramon did not have to be an genius to realise that the crater had been caused by he himself crashing into the mountain. He had consequently fallen down here and landed on the ledge completely unconscious and was now pinned by the rock-slide and avalanche that he had caused.

Could that be why he didn't remember how he got here? Had he hit his head too hard on the side of the mountain?

But supposed he could count himself lucky that this ledge had been here to catch him. And that his head had landed over the side so that he had not been buried completely.

But he could thank luck and ask questions later. Right now, he needed to get up. And so he did. He opened his metallic and hooked beak and roared, **"PLASMA CANNON!"** just as a large blaster rose out of his throat to protrude from his jaws and launch a huge bolt of yellow energy at the boulder on his wing. The boulder was blown to smithereens under the and sent shooting into the air in fragments that came clattering down on top of the pile of snow.

The force of the blast had the added effect of causing several of the other boulders to be knocked aside slightly as, as MailBirdramon stowed his mouth cannon away and gritted his beak, he forced his back end upwards slightly to allow him to shift both his legs until his talons were on the rocky surface and then, with a colossal grunt, he heaved himself upwards.

The snow was surprisingly heavy but then again, there was an awful lot of it trying to crush him down. But MailBirdramon was more than a match for it and he shoved his body upwards into a standing position, rising to his feet and causing another smaller avalanche as all the compacted snow cascaded off his back and wings and the boulders rolled off him and dropped off the side of the ledge and into the abyss below.

Finally, with a flick of his clawed tail MailBirdramon was totally free and was stood as tall, proud and majestic as ever on the edge of the cliff. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He had helped to fight against DarknessBagramon himself. He wasn't going to be pinned down by a little bit of snow.

That said, now that he was free, he hadn't the foggiest idea what to do next. If this was a mountain range of the Digital World then he had absolutely no idea which one and therefore he didn't have a clue what they way back to the castle would be

"I believe that my day could have started a lot better than this," he grumbled to himself. "If this is one of Sparrowmon's pranks… then I am going to have to kill her." He raised his voice and called out with a deep-throated demand. "Is this your doing Sparrowmon? If you're out there then get out here where I can see you! This is far from amusing!"

But there was no answer and certainly no sign of Sparrowmon. MailBirdramon' voice just seemed to echo away into the distance of the enormous peaks that were slicing upwards in all directions. The giant, armoured Digimon sighed. It looked like he was going to have to find out where he was and discover what exactly had happened his own way.

He glanced down at his large, broad wings for a moment, remembering the last time he had gone for a tumble in the Disc Zone when he had been hit by falling rocks while trying to stop Greymon from falling down a crevice that had opened up beneath him. His wing had been badly damaged then and he had been unable to fly them out of the deep ravine they had found themselves in. Hoping that his wings had somehow survived damage in this particular fall, he flared up the thrusters that ran along their back edge.

It took several moments of smoke billowing out of them before they burst into life and MailBirdramon had to suppress a smirk of triumph. It seemed that this time he was not grounded and going to have to rely on an elevator to get himself anywhere. And so, with a powerful spring on his hind legs he threw himself into the air and his wings exploded into full throttle action, allowing him to propel himself forwards, barrel-rolling through the air for a moment to make sure that his wings could handle it before shooting upwards.

As he lifted higher and gained a better view of the mountains around him through the mist, he began to get increasingly sure that these mountains were not part of the Digital World. He had globetrotted even more of the world than Sparrowmon and after the Code Crown had acted up… who could say what the result might have been.

"First order of business, find the others," he murmured to himself before he dived lower and winged his way through the mountain peaks at extremely high speed.

* * *

MailBirdramon was not the only one who woke up to find themselves mostly buried in snow, but fortunately for Dracomon, there was not a whole lot of it on him. When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the cold rather than his pounding head, though that caught up with him a couple of moments later and he both let out a long moan and began to shiver violently.

He had been lying on his side while unconscious and as he woke up he found the it was snowing around him and that as well as a thick layer of snow covering his left side from the waist down, the rest of his side was also sprinkled with the powder that had been falling from the sky as he lay there. He gasped as waves of cold seemed to wash over him – he might have been a dragon Digimon but he was not immune to the effects of freezing, and he quickly shot to his feet, sending the snow on top of him flying off as he tried to regain his footing.

The task was far from easy as it felt like his right leg had decided to go to sleep from being lain on and from being buried in cold snow for however long, and he couldn't feel the toes of his other foot either. As a result, he actually staggered forwards through the thick snow all around him for several moments before he lost his balance again and fell back down, his muzzle burying under the slush in front of him.

"Oh, I hate the cold," Dracomon complained as he lay there for a couple of moments. He gritted his teeth and wiggled his frozen toes in an attempt to get some feeling back into them as he pushed himself upwards again until he was sitting on his backside, which was far from a pleasant sensation considering how cold it got extremely quickly.

Looking up, he gasped. The snow seemed to stretch away as far as he could make out and everything around him seemed to be mostly composed of rocky crags and uprisings from the ground, with a couple of tall mountains bordering the edges of his vision, except for one which he was currently lying at the foot off. It didn't look like a mountain-range… more of a mountainous region.

A little like how Dragon Land had been… except that Dragon Land had considerably less snow than this.

"What is this place?" he murmured fearfully to himself as his eyes roamed over the landscape.

Dracomon quickly spotted a large boulder nearby and pushed himself back to his feet and stumbling clumsily over to it before falling against it with a grunt. He quickly brushed as much snow of it as he could and hauled himself up onto it, lifting his legs back into the air and attempting to shift them around and rub them down so that he would be able to use them properly again.

He looked back up and worry flashed across his face when he saw no signs of any of the others lying nearby. Worry for both them and for himself. Though it was true that he had gotten stronger in the last five years under Shoutmon's tutelage he still did not think he was ready to protect himself against that many enemies. He had _tried_, but he had never really managed to succeed in getting that much stronger. And now, here he was, on his own and therefore mostly without protection.

But that was only a small focus of his mind. The rest of him was consumed with more worry for the others than for himself. He hoped that they were okay, and that they hadn't been buried alive underneath the thick snow that lay all around them.

Knowing it was a foolish thing to do considering he had no idea where he was… or who else was around, Dracomon lifted his head and called out, "Shoutmon! Shoutmon, are you there? Somebody? Anybody? Greymon? Deckerdramon? Anyone at all? HEEELLLLOOOO!"

He waited for the echoes to die down but he received no answer. He tucked his legs, which were not tingling as feeling returned to them, into his stomach and wrapped his tail around them, shivering with both the cold and the sudden sensation of loneliness that he felt. The bleak landscape was doing very little to reassure him at this point too.

And then… a snarling noise… come from some distance behind him.

Dracomon whirled around, fear crossing his face at the thought of some wild Digimon descending down on him and ripping him into shreds for trespassing or disturbing it with his shouting, and indeed he did see a large, winged shape curving down from the sky above him, dropping towards the ground but levelling out as it plunged straight towards Dracomon's position like a mighty bird of prey ready to pluck him from the rock and devour him.

But… just before Dracomon could pick himself up and run, the shape came into proper focus and a wave of relief passed through Dracomon as a grin lit up his face. "Cyberdramon! It's you!" he called.

And so it was. The enormous four winged dragon Digimon with the great spaded tail swooped down low to the ground, curving upwards again for the final approach until he was upright and then settling his weight down on the ground in a smooth landing in the snow, plunging one end of his double-ended spear into the ground beside his foot. He looked down at the much smaller Digimon, his face as completely blank as ever.

Dracomon sometimes if you could even say that Cyberdramon _had_ a face. He had no discernible mouth, so Dracomon didn't even know how he could make the basic noises he usually did or say anything at all, which he rarely did. And the only other facial features he had under the see-through visor that covered the front of his head were the four purple spots, two next to one another at the base and the other two extending upwards to make them like an upside down T, that apparently functioned as his eyes.

"Boy am I glad to see you," Dracomon grinned up at the much bigger dragon. "Are you alright?"

Cyberdramon made no noticeable response and Dracomon had to suppress the urge to fidget. He had often thought that the Digimon police could intimidate anyone that they arrested just by putting the impassive Cyberdramon in the room and have him stare them down for hours on end, which he could very probably do.

"Uh… well… anyway, do you know what happened? Like, where are we? The Code Crown flashed and then… suddenly I'm waking up in the middle of a snowfall. Do you have _any_ idea at all what's going on?"

Cyberdramon still didn't say anything for several moments, but then he just uttered a low growling sound which didn't seem to mean anything significant, but he shook his head at the same time which clearly gave the small, green dragon his answer.

Dracomon sighed. "That's what I thought." He turned round to have a look at their surroundings again. "But, where the heck are we anyway? I know that the Code Crown can transport things to other places so I assume that that's what happened to us, but… I don't have the faintest clue where we are." He turned back and said, "You've travelled more of the Digital World than I have. Do _you_ recognise this place?"

Cyberdramon shook his head.

Dracomon bit his lip with more worry as he added, "Well… what about the others? They must have been transported by the Code Crown. Have you seen any of the others?"

Cyberdramon shook his head again.

"Well… then…" Dracomon was beginning to fret now. "Where can they be? How long have you been awake?"

It was becoming increasingly clear that holding a conversation with Cyberdramon was next to impossible, because the dragon seemed to be completely unwilling to say anything unless he didn't have to. He lifted up his spear and pounded the ground with it. Just once. But Dracomon had long since known that such actions usually meant something with Cyberdramon because when he wasn't trying to say something he barely moved at all. He could almost be mistaken for a statue.

"One," Dracomon guessed. "One… hour?"

Cyberdramon nodded.

"And you haven't seen _any_ of our friends since then?" Dracomon gasped.

Cyberdramon shook his head. If Dracomon hadn't heard him say things from time to time in the past and that he could clearly understand everything that the others around him were saying, he would be convinced that Cyberdramon didn't speak the same language as he did. As it was he was still pretty convinced that he found anything but growling noises difficult, which was why he usually only called out his attack names.

Dracomon looked down at his feet again and pushed himself back up to his feet, wobbling slightly as he tried to maintain his balance under his stiff and still tingling but functional legs. Eventually he managed to stand up properly on top of the boulder and there was no sign of permanent damage by the cold.

"Well then…" Dracomon muttered. "What do we do now? Do we just… go on and try and look for the others?"

Cyberdramon's only response to that was to bend down until he was on one knee and reach down with his armoured and viciously clawed hand until he was holding it next to the rock that Dracomon was standing on. Dracomon hesitated for a moment but then he stepped from the rock and onto the armour of Dracomon's lower arm, gripping it tightly as Cyberdramon lifted him upwards so that he could clamber over to his shoulder.

But, in mid-clamber, an ear-splitting and earth-shaking roar rent the air with such suddenness and ferocity that Dracomon almost had a heart attack and nearly lost his footing to go tumbling back into the snow. He only just managed to grab onto Cyberdramon's shoulder in time as the cyborg-dragon-alien Digimon wrenched with motion, his arm lashing down to grip his spear in two hands and his legs thrashing apart into a combat stance, searching for the perpetrator of the terrifying roar.

Dracomon scrabbled upwards and found a seat on Cyberdramon's rounded shoulder, gripping onto one of the backwards-pointing crests that jutted out of the top of Cyberdramon's head like some horny frill as he wildly searched the skies for any sign of attack as well. The both of them stood frozen and tense for several seconds, during which the only sound either of them could hear was the sound of the wind…

…but then they gradually began to hear another sound. A low and rather slow-thrumming sound that started quietly and began to slowly build up in volume, but stayed with the same steady thumps as it started with despite how much louder it got.

The sound caused both of them to look upwards instinctively… for it sounded like… wingbeats?

And then they saw it. An enormous shape rounded the corner of the mountain that they were standing at the base of and swept overhead and in front of them as it carried itself across the sky. Dracomon's jaw dropped, for the shape was huge and reptilian, with four thick, trunk-like legs tucked beneath it and a body covered with scales the glistened in the thin light of the sun, two, enormous bat-like wings that swept outwards from its shoulders, a long tail that ended in a whip-like spade and a shorter but still long neck which head its pointed and reptilian head, complete with, like one enormous winged-lizard.

There was no question as to what it was – it was a dragon. Just like Dracomon and Cyberdramon… but also _not_ like Dracomon and Cyberdramon.

"Do you sense it too?" Dracomon whispered as the dragon swooped by, apparently not noticing them. "That… that dragon… it's not a Digimon… is it?"

Apparently this was enough of an occasion for Cyberdramon to say something, for he growled a single word – "No."

Dracomon's heart was pounding. A dragon that was _not_ a Digimon, right there in front of them and flying away? Where the heck _were_ they?

* * *

By contrast to some of the other Digimon, when Beelzemon regained consciousness himself he could actually see light streaming in through his three eyelids before he had even opened his eyes. When he did, he was almost dazzled by the light which hit his red irises and he immediately folded his wings up and over his face to cover his vision with pitch-black feathers, which certainly seemed to do a better job that his own eyelids.

He lay there on his back for several moments with his wings folded over his eyes, allowing faint bits of light to stream in over the sides of his wings to help adjust his vision to the unusual brightness that was surrounding him. During this period he quickly took stock of what he could remember, which was pretty much the same as all the other Digimon who were waking up across this world.

The Code Crown acted up and then – Bob's your uncle – here he was.

But the others… were they alright? Shoutmon? Lillymon?... Mervamon?

Judging that his eyes had probably adjusted by this point, he folded his wings back slowly and sat up, allowing himself to see what was causing the brightness. To his surprise, it appeared to be… the trees around him. He was in some kind of woodland and there was an enormous amount of sunlight shining down on him from above and filtering through the leaves of the trees… but the leaves were a deep golden colour instead of the more usual green.

And not the faded orange colour of autumn either – they were completely gold. The trees all stood straight and tall with no protruding branches below the canopy to leave the thick trunks as smooth and round as pillars of marble. In fact they almost _looked_ like pillars of marvel thanks to the silver-grey bark and how smooth it looked. The trees looked like they should be artificial… but they so obviously weren't.

He had to admit that despite all of the various things he had seen in Middle Earth, he had seen few things as naturally and astoundingly beautiful as the place he was in now. The ground was covered in a thin layer of the golden leaves and Beelzemon could see a couple more falling now and again, and several newer leaves sprouting up near the canopy which were green on the top and silver on the bottom.

But there was yet more gold adorning the branches as there appeared to be several hundred flowers blooming in each tree which were of an even richer gold than the leaves. Not to mention the rich, mossy ground was also covered in flowers which stretched away into the distance and came in various colours… but most of those colours were also gold.

The sheer amount of gold combined with the patch of brighter sunlight falling down on him than the surroundings had been what had caused Beelzemon to need to initially shield his eyes. Truly, this place looked magical.

Beelzemon stared around him in awe for about half a minute… and it took a lot to awe him. But then he remembered some of his greater priorities and his searched became more focused on the other members of his team. It did not take him long to gather that most of the Xros Heart United Army was not there – there was no sign of Shoutmon or Mervamon or any of the others… except for one member of the group. It was Wisemon, and he was currently lying on his stomach right next to him, evidently having not regained consciousness yet.

Beelzemon quickly reached over to grasped his shoulder and shake him slightly. "Hey, wake up. Are you alright?"

Wisemon moaned and rolled over. "Not now, Mummy. I'm about to score the winning goal," he mumbled.

Beelzemon could only stare at him with a completely blank and straight expression on his face for about five seconds before he raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat loudly. Wisemon's yellow eyes opened in the blackness that was his face underneath his cream-coloured hood. "Hmm?" he asked. "What? What was that? What's going on?"

"You seemed to think that you were playing some kind of sporting event," Beelzemon said, completely deadpan. "And you also seemed to think that I was your mother."

"What?" Wisemon blinked. "I did not! But yeah, that was a good game. We won three-two."

"I'm not even going to ask," Beelzemon mumbled as he clambered to his feet and stretched his great, black wings out behind him. "Regardless, something strange is going on. Get up and take a look around and then tell me that you know what's happening because sure as heck don't."

"Huh?" Wisemon frowned as he sat up, his eyes widening considerably when he got a load of his surroundings. "Oh, my goodness," he murmured from where he continued to sit. "How… remarkably fascinating. Everything's so… so golden. Remarkable. And beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

"Neither have I," Beelzemon nodded. "I travelled far and wide while working as a reaper for the Bagra Army, but this place is not ringing any bells. These trees are… strange."

"And yet amazing," Wisemon nodded, picking up one of the fallen leaves in his clawed hand and bringing it close to his face and examining it closely. While still examining it he clambered to his feet and seemed to absent-mindedly wander over to one of the trunks to place his other hand on that and examine that closely to. Beelzemon watched him, seeing that Wisemon's curiosity was beginning to get the better of him but also knowing that he was lucky to have landed with Wisemon.

Because if anyone could figure out what had happened to them then it would be Wisemon.

The seeker of knowledge continued to examine both the tree and the bark for several seconds before he turned around and said, "Based on my initial analysis of both the leaf and the tree itself and comparing it from what I know of the Digital World from my observations and from the vast information in the castle's library… I can quite safely say that there these trees are not of any kind that grows in the Digital World."

Beelzemon's blood practically froze and his three eyes widened. "Are you certain?" he choked out.

"Very certain," Wisemon nodded. "I do not forget things once I have learned them."

"But… is there not a possibility that this a hidden and unrecorded forest?" Beelzemon questioned, hoping for an answer to all of these that would make sense.

"It is a possibility, but it is highly unlikely," Wisemon shook his head. "I believe that whatever forest we have landed in, it is not one indigenous to our Digital World. And the last thing that I can recall before we landed here was the Code Crown displaying erratic behaviour that indicated it was gathering power to prepare for an unknown process. Then it connected a strand of light to each of us to lock onto our digital signature and began to transmit that energy through us at high power… and then we woke up here."

Beelzemon did not think he needed Wisemon to explain further, but he had to be certain that he knew what Wisemon was grasping at so he said, "And that means…?"

"It means that it is likely that the Code Crown has transported us to a completely new world," Wisemon nodded gravely. "It is possible that this is the Human World, as I never did get the opportunity to study it before we all had to depart back to our own world so I cannot say if these trees grow here or not. But I have always had reasons to believe that there are multitudes of different universes out there… and I am afraid that this might be one of them."

Beelzemon's fears were confirmed and he gritted his teeth. "I…see…" he murmured, looking out at the forest around them once again but with new thoughts going through his head. Was it truly possible that this was a universe that was neither the Digital World or the Human World?

"Why the Code Crown would choose to send us here in the first place though, I cannot begin to guess," Wisemon sighed. "But I am sure that it must have had its reasons."

_I think I might have a slight idea,_ Beelzemon thought to himself. The Code Crown had begun acting up almost as soon as Shoutmon had confessed that he was beginning to think that he did not deserve and was not worthy of his position as King of the Digital World. He could not think of any other potential reason as to why they would have been sent here than that. And the Code Crown did have some control over the dimensions – it had been able to pull all of the Digimon of the Digital World into the human world to fuse into Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode after all.

Was it possible that this was all just one big test for Shoutmon?

He doubted that was the only reason the Code Crown would have sent them here. The Code Crown always had a higher reason for things and besides, if it had wanted to test Shoutmon alone then surely it would have just sent Shoutmon. Yet it had connected to all of them… which meant that it was likely all of them were now somewhere in this world.

He had to find them – that was his duty. He was the Army's guardian, which meant that he to get moving now. Because if the Code Crown had decided to act like this… it probably meant that there was some kind of trouble in this world that had caused something from it to call out for help in some way. And the Code Crown would have responded by sending them.

"We can worry about where we are later," Beelzemon spread his wings. "Right now, all that matters is that we find the others and quickly. You up for a little flying?"

Wisemon nodded. "You are right, of course. I…" he stopped and frowned as his senses told him that something was up. Beelzemon felt it too, and the both of the suddenly looked around, now slightly more wary than before.

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, humanoid forms began to loom out from the foliage, appearing from around the trees and rising out of the bushes and emerging from places where it didn't seem possible for something of their size to conceal themselves. Beelzemon and Wisemon were promptly surrounded by the humanoid figures and each one of them had an arrow attached to a bowstring and drawn back, ready to fire.

Beelzemon and Wisemon responded in kind, Beelzemon's cannon crackling with power as he raised it warningly while Wisemon raised his hands and generating two orbs above his hands with metal rings swirling around them so they resembled giant atoms.

It appeared to be a stand-off almost straight away, as neither side dared move for several moments as they weighed one another up. But then, one of the humanoids stepped forwards and out of the main throng, arrow still stretched taught on the string of his longbow. He had a fair, angled face, long blond hair that fell far past his shoulders and ears that had extremely pointed tips for some reason.

"You are trespassing on the Golden Wood of Lothlórien," the humanoid announced. "I ask that you state who you are… and _what_ you are… and what your business is here."

Beelzemon could see that things could get out of hand here extremely quickly if something was not done so he slowly and deliberately lowered his cannon and dialled down the power to stop it from crackling. "You must excuse us. We did not intend to trespass anywhere, but we have currently lost our bearings. We do not wish any harm upon you. We are just trying to find some friends of ours."

"Friends?" the humanoid said with a raised brow. "Is that so? And what friends might they be? More strange creatures such as yourselves? I have lived in this world for nigh on two-thousand years and never seen or heard of creatures of your ilk."

"They look like they could be minions of Sauron," another of the humanoids said from nearby.

"Impossible. Minions of Sauron this deep in the Golden Wood?" another one murmured. "That should be impossible."

"But we have never seen anything like these before," another one pointed out. "They could be more of Sauron or Saruman's twisted creations that could have the power to breach the defences around the forest's perimeter. Who knows what they are capable of?"

"Look," Beelzemon folded his wings over his back. "I am afraid that I do not know of this Sauron you speak but you are right in that neither of us are from around here. I am Beelzemon and this is my friend and colleague, Wisemon. We only seek to locate our missing comrades, find out where we are and then find a way of getting back home. If you do not wish for us to be in your wood then you can always direct us to the nearest edge and we will be on our way."

The lead figure looked suspicious and glanced at his drawn arrow a couple of times, as if wondering whether he should lower it or fire it. It was quite clear that he was still extremely suspicious of these strange creatures, so Beelzemon immediately began looking for more words that might help to reduce the chances of conflict before they occurred.

But someone else beat him to it. "Lord Haldir," called a voice, as another of the humanoids appeared in the circle, his own weapon still hanging across his back. "Hold your fire, my lord. I have a message from the Lady Galadriel."

The leader, evidently the one named Haldir, glanced across at the newcomer. "Then speak," he nodded, but he did not lower his bow.

"The Lady wishes for these two to be escorted to Caras Galadhon," the messenger stated quickly. "She says that she sensed their entry to the forest and also that they have no ill intent towards any of us. She wishes to speak with them both as soon as possible."

Haldir frowned and turned back to stare at the two Digimon, still with an air of suspicion, but after a moment he nodded and the other humanoids around them slowly relaxed their bowstrings and lowered their weapons. Evidently this Lady Galadriel's word carried a lot of weight.

Beelzemon and Wisemon glanced at each other, both of them wondering the same thing – that this was a stroke of luck and perhaps this Lady could shed a little more light on their current situation.

Haldir stowed his arrow back in his quiver and deftly strung his bow across his back, nodding to the two Digimon and saying, "You must come with us, now."

* * *

Spadamon grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, using his short sword as a prop to allow him to push himself to his feet. The small Digimon had woken up a couple of minutes ago and had been briefly checking himself over for injuries of which he appeared to have none, before he clambered up right and took stock of his situation.

He definitely did not like what he saw. In fact, it gave him the shivers almost as soon as he looked around. He could barely see anything around him whatsoever, due to the fact that the area was covered in a dense layer of cold fog that seemed to nestle over the entire area like some thick sheet trying to smother everything underneath it to the ground. Spadamon could barely see thirty yards in front of him and he actually lifted his sword to see if he could cut through the fog with it.

He almost could. It was that dense.

From what he could see through it though he appeared to be in some kind of area with dark hills dotted around the place, though it was difficult to make out even the closest of these hills thanks to the enshrouding fog. But there was also a general feeling to the area that Spadamon did not like, as if there was something behind him and watching him with hungry eyes.

The small Digimon turned around to make sure that there wasn't, but if there was then he couldn't see anything. And it still felt like there was something behind him even though he had turned completely around. It was as if the area was giving off an aura that was trying to give Spadamon the heebie-jeebies and deliberately trying to make his blood get colder and flow slower through his body.

It was a most disturbing feeling, and he was filled with a near overwhelming urge to get out of this place as quickly as he could. But he, like everyone else, didn't have the faintest idea where he was meant to go.

"Um… hello?" he called out. "Is… is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

He even didn't like the sound of his own voice as instead of going somewhere and trying to reach somebody else's ears like it was supposed to it felt like it was trying to hang over his head just like the fog. Spadamon didn't bother to suppress the shiver that passed up his spine this time. He didn't like this place _at all._ Everything about it just felt… _wrong_. So very, _very_ wrong.

He looked around, trying to pick a direction to go in.

His mind was made up quite quickly when he heard a horrible, rattling breathy noise coming from behind him as well as the ever-so-slight rustling of leaves that sounded like something not-quite there was flowing over them like a whisper in the fog. Spadamon did not pause to look. He was instantly going in the other direction, trying to escape the feeling of wrongness that was rippling through his body every second that he was there.

And behind him, there still appeared to be nothing but fog… but the slow and slithering-swish noise continued, as if whatever was causing it was in no hurry to track down its prey.

* * *

And finally, Mervamon and Cutemon were not the only beings to be plunged into water on their entrance to this world. Jijimon also was snapped awake when he crashed straight down beneath the surface, the air all over his face instantly matting and flowing all around him as he coughed water and kicked wildly, desperately trying to pull himself up to the surface.

The elderly Digimon was not the best of swimmers, but fortunately for him he still had hold of his trusty staff with the paw on the end and since that was made of wood it instantly rose up to the surface. Jijimon gripped it tightly and broke his head free of the water with several hacking coughs as he leaned on his staff, the paw at the end making it a useful flotation device while he tried to spit the water out of his mouth and shake the water out of the eyes that were hidden underneath all the hair. (How Jijimon saw anything was a complete mystery to most anyway)

When he finally did stop spitting and decided to have a look around and see where he was, he certainly didn't like what he saw either. Because, just about all he saw… was water. Lots and lots of water in every single direction he looked.

Was he… in the middle of an ocean?

The thought was enough to bring panic even to his patient and elderly heart but then he did notice land in one direction that he looked – he could see a mountain range in the distance, on the very horizon. And although he couldn't make them out very clearly he could still see that they were a strange reddish colour, as if they had been sitting and baking in the sun at all hours since they had first risen out of the ground.

Jijimon knew that that was his only land so he instantly began kicking to try and strike out towards it. But Jijimon was not exactly energetic and the ocean seemed to be determined to pull him _away_ from the mountains. So pull him away from the mountains it did and it was only a matter of minutes before Jijimon lost sight of the mountains completely.

Eventually Jijimon just gave up and sagged against his floating staff, gasping for breath. "Oh dear," he groaned. "In all my long years… I think that getting lost out at sea was close to the very bottom of ways that I would eventually die." He raised his voice and cried, "Hello! Are there any sea Digimon out there who can help a chap in need?"

Sadly, there was no reply, and all Jijimon could do was float there helplessly as the riptide that was dragging him carried him further and further out to sea.

* * *

And that's a wrap folks. That's every single member of the Xros Heart United Army who have appeared in Middle Earth accounted for. The only one I have missed out is Monimon and my reason for him not being there is because he returned to the Ninja Village to complete his training with the Elder and the other ninjas. And of course Olegmon, Apollomon and Grademon are not here either because they were not at the feast. But other than that, everybody who fought in the final battle against Bagramon before Superior Mode was used is now here in Middle Earth and ready for the main story to begin.

As I said before, the Digimon from the last chapter will be the ones mostly involved with the events of the movies, while the ones in this chapter will mostly be involved in the outside events from the games. I hope you're ready to see what happens to each and every one of them.

I should mention that due to the large number of things that are happening in Middle Earth at any one time there may be occasions where we have to wait up to thirty chapters or perhaps even more to find out what is happening to certain characters while more prominent events are taking place in other parts of the world. However, every character has a part to play so though some roles are more minor than others, each of them will contribute to the defence of Middle Earth in some fashion.

If anyone wants to ask where a certain character has landed then please do not hesitate to and I shall answer the question as soon as possible.

I guess I'll see you soon!

* * *

Next time…

The Fellowship of the Ring sails on down the Anduin River and past the Argonath to arrive at the falls of Rauros. As Frodo contemplates Galadriel's words still, it becomes abundantly clear that the Ring's influence is growing. And not only that, but there are a couple of strange creatures from another universe close by.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 8 : The Breaking of the Fellowship**


	8. The Breaking of the Fellowship

Heya guys. I'm here with the next instalment of this saga. I should mention that you should probably not expect very much from this chapter. For the most part the dialogue and events play out pretty much the same way that they do in the movies, but since the members of the Fellowship have not actually had many dramatic changes as a result of this crossover yet I saw little reason to make anything different. It's when the Digimon finally start getting involved that the story shall become more original and different than it was in the films, just like with Secret of the 327th.

Despite the similarity to the movie, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 8:- The Breaking of the Fellowship**

* * *

Cutemon had fallen asleep quite a while ago, still dripping from his dip in the river on top of Mervamon's head as he lay with his back against one of the bony crests on either side of her snake-skull-like helmet. His slight sighs every time that he breathed out were becoming a constant and strangely calming noise filtering into Mervamon's ear as she continued to follow the course of the river.

Mervamon herself had also been quite tired, having not had the opportunity to get any sleep since before the festival had occurred, and a brief period of unconsciousness before being dropped in a river didn't really count.

The landscape around them had now changed significantly and Mervamon was actually quite glad that they had landed in the rapids rather than here. Yes, Cutemon had nearly drowned but at least they were able to get out of the river. She was now walking alongside the edge of an enormous cliff which was actually one side of one jagged ravine and the river itself was now at the bottom of that ravine. Whenever Mervamon looked down she could see no banks for the river at all – it just flowed between the towering cliff walls and turned the ravine into a channel as it continued south.

Mervamon had to admit that she climbing up a cliff like this would have been quite the challenge. Her snake arm could be extremely useful in a combat situation, but it made other tasks that required a bit more dexterity which having ten fingers instead of just five would give her, like climbing cliffs, that much more difficult. So she supposed it was a good thing that they'd at least been able to get to dry land.

From up on the height of the cliff, Mervamon had paused briefly to try and get a decent look around. Judging by the position of the Sun, she would say that it was now just after mid-day. She didn't know how long they had been going for but it had been a while and she hadn't seen any signs of life other than small birds, trees and a squirrel which had darted away the moment it had seen her. She was beginning to get anxious, her eyes roaming the skies for any sign of Sparrowmon or MailBirdramon… or her beloved Beelzemon.

But so far, nothing.

This was not the best situation to be in. Mervamon didn't want to risk trying to get any sleep until she could find a place she judged to be a good shelter and a decent place to hide, since she had no idea what kind of things might live in this area that could pose a threat to her and might attack her while she was sleeping. And she had a responsibility to make sure Cutemon was kept safe, especially since Dorulumon was not here to do the job himself like he usually did.

She grimaced slightly as she looked back down from the sky. There had been one point where she had seen something large and winged high up in the sky and for a moment she thought it could have been MailBirdramon. But if it was then he hadn't seen her and was too high up for him to hear her if she called and it had gone pretty quickly.

As Mervamon looked down, something caught her eye down in the river below in the ravine. A sharp intake of breath followed and she stepped away from the side of the cliff and out of sight as she hissed, "Cutemon! Cutemon, wake up!"

"Huh?" Cutemon mumbled blearily as he opened his eyes. "Did we find Shoutmon yet, kyu?"

"No, not yet," Mervamon replied. "But take a look down there. I think we might have finally found a few locals."

Cutemon yawned and sat up as Mervamon stepped closer to the edge again. He had to resist the urge to skitter backwards at the extreme drop which was suddenly below him but then his eyes lit up when he saw what Mervamon had seen – three small boats that were swiftly making their way down the course of the river and staying as far away from the canyon walls as possible. Cutemon could dimly make out the figures sitting in the boats but they were too far away to make out what they were.

"Hey, maybe they can tell us where we are and how to get back to the castle, kyu," Cutemon cheered, hopping to his feet on Mervamon's head. "Shall we call down to them?"

"No," Mervamon shook her head. "Let's just try and follow them for now and see if the terrain flattens out a little. Holding a conversation up here would be impractical and I want to see who we're dealing with properly before we try anything. Hold on, I'm going to try and keep pace with them."

"Okay," nodded Cutemon as he gripped the crest tighter as Mervamon hurried along, as close to the top of the cliff as she dared and periodically stepping closer to the edge to make sure that they were still there before popping back. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to spot her right now – they might think she was an enemy. No, better to just stay hidden for now until she could get closer.

* * *

The passengers of the boats in the ravine were, naturally, the eight members of the Fellowship, who were on their third day of travelling down the river by boat to get closer to their destination of Mordor. The atmosphere was now quiet, sour and a little bit tense, especially after some of the things that had happened last night.

Frodo was quieter than ever before having gotten very little sleep and unnerved by the argument that Boromir and Aragorn had had last night. Boromir himself was feeling rather sour and bitter at Aragorn for ignoring his suggestions and advice and Aragorn's mind was dwelling on Boromir's words about his fear of assuming the throne.

Legolas was similarly deep in thought, but that was due to the strange disturbance in the world that he had sensed last night. He knew that things were beginning to be set in motion which would inevitably affect everything but he still had no idea what form it would take. Would it be beneficial to them or to Sauron? Would it make their quest easier or harder? Who could say?

There was a point where he thought he spotted something – a figure at the top of the ravine and a tall one at that, but when he looked he couldn't see anything. He put it down in his mind as having seen a strange tree and mistaken it for a person. But the Elf was still wary nevertheless.

But then something happened which successfully took their minds off all their individual thoughts. As the first boat where Aragorn, Frodo and Sam were sitting began to round a corner, Aragorn's eyes filled with wondrous joy and amazement and he quickly reached forward and tapped Frodo on the shoulder, uttering "Frodo," to get his attention. Frodo had to resist the urge to flinch but his attention was successfully brought upwards and when he saw what Aragorn was seeing he could feel his own eyes slowly widening.

"The Argonath," Aragorn breathed in satisfaction.

As they all rounded the corner they all saw it. The ravine was coming to an end with the two walls drawing closer together than ever before to make a gap that resembled some kind of gate and… standing on the side of it were two _immense_ statues of stone that rose out of the ground like giant pillars. They were _huge_, taller even than the steep canyon wall and they were amazing carved. Just one of their boats was about the size of the little toe of one of the enormous statues.

The statues themselves were of a pair of men, dressed in long, flowing robes of stone, giant crowns adorning the tops of their heads. The one on the right, which was bearded, was clutching the hilt of an immense broadsword to his chest while the other, who was clean-shaven, had his hand placed firmly on the side of the ravine itself, while both had their left hands outstretched before them, palms outwards and sending an imperious message to anyone of ill intent to turn back now. For this was the Argonath, the gateway that marked the northern border of Gondor to anyone who might be travelling down the river.

There was no doubt that these were men of royalty, even without the crowns giving that fact away. And they were meant to signify that Gondor was a country of great strength and might, and that anyone seeking to harm its inhabitants would regret it very quickly.

"Long have I desired to look upon the Kings of old," Aragorn murmured in wonder and contentment. "My kin."

Frodo was enthralled by that enormous statues, larger than any Man-made structure he had ever seen before. He felt reassured under their gaze, as if they were telling him that everything was going to be alright. Who knew – perhaps passing into Gondor would be the right time to carry out the advice that Galadriel had given to him.

He was not the only one enthralled either. Everyone else stared at the statues in absolute amazement as they passed closer to their enormous feet. Even Boromir, who was the Prince of Gondor, had never been here before and could barely keep a look of astonishment off his face. Merry and Pippin were making no attempts to hide their awe and neither was Sam. Legolas, who normally had little appreciation of such things was also finding his eyes drawn to the statues as he ploughed the river with paddle.

And Gimli… he was thinking that the Dwarves could have done a better job but he had to admit that for the work of Men this was pretty good.

The three boats rowed on through the enormous feet and out of the ravine to the enormous lake beyond, the gigantic stone Men filling practically their entire world as they sailed gently through the calm waters in between them. They were almost sad that they had to leave the statues behind, but they rowed on regardless, occasionally glancing backwards to stare at their still-visible hulking forms as they moved out into the lake. At the other side they could see that the lake dropped over the side of a cliff on either side of one immense boulder.

They had finally reached the Falls of Rauros, which would be their final stop on the river before they carried on with their feet. And since none of them had any desire to go over the edge of the falls they made their way over towards the western shore of the lake towards a convenient bank relatively close to the falls but not too close to be pulled in by the current.

* * *

As they moved out across the lake, they were completely unaware of the two beings who were still at the other end, also staring at the enormous statues in absolute amazement.

"This is… awesome," Cutemon gushed. "They're so big and massive, kyu. Who do you think built those things, kyu?"

"I have no idea," Mervamon breathed. "But I have to admit… that is pretty impressive. The amount of time and effort it must have taken to do something like that… it's astonishing."

"Shoutmon should do something like that, kyu," Cutemon chuckled. "We should make him build a giant statue of himself outside the castle."

"Maybe," Mervamon chuckled. "But I do notice one thing – both of those statues are of humans and not Digimon."

"Yeah, they are," Cutemon's eyes widened slightly. "Does that mean that we're in the Human World, kyu?"

"I don't know," Mervamon murmured. "But it would seem most likely. We never did get to see much of the Human World after all."

"Humans must be a lot stronger than we thought if they can make something as amazing as that, kyu," Cutemon's eyes were round as saucers as he looked the gigantic statues up and down.

"Indeed," nodded Mervamon. "But look, the people of those boats are moving away quickly. We need to get down there and try to find them. Hopefully they'll be able to tell us where we actually are."

"Can we just stay here a bit longer, kyu? I'm not done looking yet, kyu?" Cutemon muttered absent-mindedly as he ogled the statues some more.

Mervamon chuckled and said, "As amazing as those statues are we should be thinking about our current predicament first. Come on, let's go."

"Hey, there's a bird's nest in the eye of the one with a beard," Cutemon pointed. Mervamon snorted. Trust Cutemon to take something as awe-inspiring as those two giant statue and then point something like that out. But she didn't pause to look for the nest, she just turned around and moved away into the forest, searching for a route that would take them down the steep hill and into the trees down below where they might be able to find the three boats. At least they seemed to be heading towards the shore they were on as well. It would have been unfortunate if they'd had to go for a swim again, for the lake was huge!

She guessed it would take half an hour or so to reach the place where the boats were heading towards. She could only hope that they made it before the people in them wandered off.

* * *

The Fellowship had eased their boats up to the shore and had clambered out and onto the gravelly bank they had selected to make camp. There was still a slightly tense atmosphere hanging over the group, as things had been relatively quiet between them recently. Frodo had been particularly edgy when he had gotten out of the boat, and there had been little noise as they each found a place to sit and rest. Merry, Pippin and Gimli quickly collected some firewood as Aragorn and Legolas unloaded the boats of various bits of gear.

"We cross the lake at nightfall!" Aragorn announced, fishing his bow and arrows out of the boat as well as his old ranger's cloak and the Elven cloak that had been given to him in Lothlórien. "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the North."

"Oh yes?" Gimli questioned from where he was crouched beside the fire surrounded by large rocks they had gathered and which they had just lit and breaking bits of the wood into smaller and more usable chunks, catching Aragorn's attention in the process.

"Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil…?" Gimli asked pointedly. "An impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And after that," he jabbed a stick in Aragorn's direction to emphasise his point, "It gets even better. A festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see."

They could hear the sarcasm in Gimli's voice when he used the word 'better' and Pippin was certainly looking quite nervous at the prospect of going through that. Even Legolas looked uneasy. But Aragorn just calmly stated, "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my…" Gimli sputtered indignantly before he just subsided with a snort and started grumbling to himself as he placed the stick on the fire.

Legolas moved over to Aragorn and murmured quietly so that the rest of the group would not hear, "We should leave now."

"No," Aragorn said immediately. "Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness."

Legolas turned his head to stare out into the treeline of the forest, his eyes more wary and anxious than ever. "It is not the eastern shore that worries me," he practically shivered. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near… I can feel it."

_That_ caught Aragorn's attention. He had been raised in Rivendell – he knew that the senses of Elves were something to be listened to and Legolas was deadly serious. The Prince of Mirkwood turned back and added, "And not only that… but I felt something strange last night. Something unusual. A disturbance in the fabric of the world and close to where we were."

"A disturbance in what sense?" Aragorn asked cautiously, now looking up into the forest himself.

"I am uncertain," Legolas murmured. "But it was like nothing I have ever felt before. Whatever it may be, I feel it may have a big impact on the outcome of our world, and possibly our quest."

Aragorn had to resist the urge to bite his lip. He tried his best to be a calm and steady leader but when Legolas got worried then there was definitely something to worry about. Elves were not prone to unnecessary paranoia. Temporary indecision gripped Aragorn. Should they proceed across the lake now and risk exposing themselves to the orcs, or stay here and wait to see if something potentially worse found them.

Nearby, Merry stepped out of the trees with another bundle of firewood in his hands to place it beside the fire. Gimli was still grumbling to himself, "Hmph. Recover strength? Pay no heed to that young Hobbit."

Merry stood up after arranging the firewood and glanced around the campsite for a couple of seconds. A frown crossed his face and he uttered two words which immediately set everybody on edge.

"Where's Frodo?"

Aragorn, who had been about to respond to Legolas, looked over sharply. Sam, who had been reclined against a rock wall and trying to get some rest, blinked and quickly sat up, his head darting from side to side in search of his friend.

Aragorn was also looking about wildly in search of the young hobbit, but Merry was right. He was nowhere in the campsite. He had slipped off at some point when Aragorn had not been paying attention. But the Ranger spotted something else – something that filled him with a deep sense of trepidation.

Boromir's shield and gear were lying in a pile nearby… but there was no sign of Boromir either.

"Oh no," he murmured quietly to himself and he quickly hared off into the forest, several of the others hurrying after him.

* * *

Frodo wandered through the forest, seeking to be alone for a moment as he continued to ponder Galadriel's words. He had not decided yet whether he really wanted to go through with it… but Galadriel had told him that if he continued going towards Mordor with the rest of the Fellowship then the Ring would, one by one, find ways to kill or corrupt its other members. Frodo had been in two minds ever since.

On the one hand, he couldn't bear the thought of bringing any more harm to the Fellowship after what had happened in Moria. But on the other hand, he was absolutely terrified at the prospect on going on such a dangerous journey by himself. How would he survive? He was no fighter. He couldn't take out a battalion of orcs or goblins the way that Aragorn and the others could.

But if he carried on with the rest of the Fellowship… he would be responsible for their deaths.

Could he really be so selfish as to keep them around for his own protection? And besides, if they all remained around the Ring, then they could be just as dangerous to him as any goblin if it got into their heads.

Whatever was going to happen, he was going to decide today. And if he chose to go forth alone as Galadriel had recommended, then he would have to slip away somehow before the rest of the Fellowship discovered he was missing.

Frodo's meanderings had taken him to the foot of the ruin of what appeared to be an old Gondorian outpost or watchtower, up a flight of leaf-covered stone stairs and to the base of a fallen statue – or rather the head of one. And enormous stone face was lying on its side and half-buried in the turf, staring sightlessly out at him and Frodo couldn't help but wonder what it would suggest if it could say anything. The half of the face he could see did have a wise expression on it.

And then there was a voice from behind him that made Frodo's heart practically stop, though he kept his face perfectly neutral. It was the voice among the Fellowship that put him most on edge – the member who had so far expressed the most interest and fascination in the Ring.

Boromir.

"None of us should wander alone," he said as he stepped out from behind a clump of trees, a large pile of firewood in his arms. "You, least of all," he added as he bent down to pick up another piece and add it to the pile already in his arms. "So much depends on you."

Frodo said nothing, giving Boromir a level, wary stare, trying to anticipate what he would do next. He knew that Boromir's fascination with the Ring was not his fault. The Ring _did_ have a will of its own and it was currently trying to worm its way into all their hearts. He could often feel it himself, like a dark hand was slowly squeezing his heart. It just seemed that it had been able to burrow deeper into Boromir's thoughts than the others.

Boromir noticed Frodo staring at him and frowned. "Frodo?" he questioned.

Frodo swallowed and looked away slightly, keeping Boromir in view in the corner of his eye, but still not speaking. Boromir, frown still in place stepped a little closer. He was much taller than the Hobbit – at least twice his height with ease, and Frodo was currently very aware of that fact.

"I know why you seek solitude," Boromir said quietly. "You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?"

Frodo looked up at him again, already not liking where this conversation was going and guessing where it was heading. Boromir had been the most reluctant at the idea of taking the Ring to Mount Doom and his conversation with Aragorn last night was still fresh in the Hobbit's mind.

"There are other ways, Frodo," Boromir offered. "Other paths that we might take."

"I know what you would say," Frodo finally spoke. "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart."

"Warning?" Boromir grimaced, stepping closer again, and this time Frodo quickly stepped across him so that his back was not to a giant stone head that cut off a potential escape route. "Against what?" Boromir questioned, turning and continuing to step towards him as Frodo continue to back away.

"We're all afraid, Frodo," Boromir went on. "But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have… don't you see? That is madness?"

"There is no other way," Frodo said immediately, knowing exactly what Boromir was getting at. From the moment he had first seen the Ring he had wanted to take it back to his city to try and wield its power himself. He had agreed eventually to take it to Mordor… but now it seemed his mind was back to its original desire.

Boromir evidently did not like Frodo's words, anger building on his face and as he growled, "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" throwing the firewood in his arms violently to the ground as he did so and immediately setting off alarm bells in Frodo's head. "If you would but lend me the Ring…"

"No!" Frodo backed away immediately as Boromir took a step forwards again.

"Why do you recoil? I am no thief," Boromir objected.

"You are not yourself," Frodo countered.

Boromir scowled, pressing his lips together briefly before he growled, "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end!"

This conversation and Boromir's increasing ire were more than enough to convince Frodo that Galadriel was right. The Ring was too dangerous to be kept around the others and Boromir was reaching the breaking point. Frodo knew then that he would have to leave the Fellowship and travel on alone, and he immediately turned around and began to walk away, heading up the nearest hill and away from the seething man.

Boromir did not take it very well. The Ring had a firm grip on him now and he immediately started after Frodo with a snarl of, "You fool! It is not yours, save by unhappy chance!"

Frodo immediately increased his speed but Boromir's strides were far longer and he gained quickly, causing Frodo to break into a run and cause Boromir to do the same. "It could have been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!"

Boromir caught up almost instantly and seized Frodo back the back of his Elven cloak, pulling him to his feet and rolling him onto his back before immediately falling on him, his hands grasping for Frodo's neck where the Ring hung from its chain underneath Frodo's shirt. Frodo thrashed but Boromir was twice as heavy and many times stronger than him and Boromir managed to grip the chain and tried to pull it out from under his shirt.

"Give it to me!" roared Boromir.

"No!" Frodo shouted, struggling valiantly.

"Give me the Ring!" Boromir yelled succeeding in pulling out the chain and grasping for the circlet of gold dangling from it.

"No!" Frodo practically screamed and the Hobbit quickly did the only thing that he could. He grasped the Ring himself and broke it from its chain to slip it onto his own finger. Instantly he vanished from sight and Boromir hesitated, blinking in shock, but then he felt something invisible kick him in the chest and he fell backwards with a yelp, hearing a scrabbling noise as the invisible Frodo scrambled up and dashed away, a large log shifting of its own accord nearby as he ran off.

And then there was nothing. Boromir was left alone on the forest floor, his hair straggled as he searched the area for any sight of Frodo and saw nothing. The lost opportunity slowly brought a snarl of fury to his face.

"I see your mind," he growled quietly as he pushed himself upwards and roared into the forest. "YOU WILL TAKE THE RING TO SAURON! YOU WILL BETRAY US! Well, you go to your death, AND THE DEATH OF US ALL!"

He scrabbled to his feet and attempt to step up the hill and chase after the Hobbit in a desperate attempt to track him down, still yelling, "CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU… AND ALL THE HALFLINGS!" But as soon as he spoke he stood on the corner of his cloak and tripped over, falling onto his front with a thud and sliding down the hill to come to rest sprawled on his front at the base, his hair filled with leaves and his face smeared with dirt.

Perhaps it was the jolt from the fall or perhaps it was the fact that the Ring was no longer close by, but suddenly Boromir felt a sense of freedom meaning that he could think quite clearly again all of a sudden. Almost immediately he was overcome with remorse and complete horror at what he had just been thinking and had attempted to do.

He had attempted to take the Ring! Even though he had sworn an oath to protect Frodo all the way to Mordor and destroy the thing. He had grabbed Frodo… attacked him… and his mind he knew that if he had not been able to take the Ring while Frodo was still alive, he would not have hesitated to _kill_ the Hobbit.

Oh dear Lord, what was wrong with him?

Boromir looked up slowly. The sturdy Gondorian man was tough in every sense of the word, but now there were tears in his eyes as his heart and soul were filled with repulsion at himself. There was a catch in his throat and his breath was coming out in ragged gasps, his eyes empty and haunted as what he had just done replayed in his mind over and over again.

"Frodo?" he asked thin air pathetically, brushing the hair out his eyes and slowly looking for any sign of the Hobbit, only to see nothing as he had expected. "Frodo." He was close to sobbing now, his face trembling with repulsion and dismay. "What have I done? Please, Frodo. FRODO, I'M SORRY! FRODO, COME BACK!"

* * *

Frodo heard Boromir's shouts but they were in the distance already as he fled through the forest. He had no idea where he was going and he could see very little. With the Ring on his finger he might be invisible but everything around him was grey, distorted and seemed to be in constant swirling motion. Gandalf had once theorised that for mortals like Frodo, the Ring transferred their physical body to the spirit plane, making them wraith-like and invisible to all. And it certainly seemed that way to Frodo right now.

Not that Frodo cared. In his blind panic and attempts to get away from Boromir he now found himself running up another flight of stone steps and before he knew what he was doing he was crouched at the base of another, smaller statue of what appeared to be three eagles standing back to back and with wings raised. He curled himself up there, seeking to make himself as small as possible even though he was invisible, gripping the stonework tightly.

But then Frodo felt something – a presence… a dark, twisted and pure evil presence suddenly falling over the top of him, overshadowing him and seeking to smother him. Frodo's eyes snapped open and his own breath became ragged as he felt the dark presence trying to overwhelm him.

Almost against his will, Frodo clambered to his feet and stared East through a gap in the statue, everything around him still swirling and distorting violently. But Frodo did not see the spiritual landscape of the area beyond the statues. What he saw was a dark tower with an orange glow on the top that seemed to be rushing towards him at high speed until he reached the base and saw thousands of orcs marching through its gates.

Then, even though the stone he was standing on was not moving, his vision rushed upwards and upwards, shooting up the various columns and supports and walls of the dark tower, everything taking on a more and more orange hue around him as his vision ascended. And then, to Frodo's abject horror, he was at the top of the tower and there, nestled between the two spires at the top was the enormous, blazing and flame-wreathed, slitted Eye.

The true possessor of the Ring.

The Eye of Sauron.

The slitted, black pupil of the Eye narrowed as it seemed to draw closer and closer, filling up his vision entirely as it focused on him. Frodo felt panic gripping him, knowing that Sauron knew exactly where he was at this point even though he was, in reality, still a very long way away. Frodo heard the deep voice, uttering strange words in the Black Speech of Mordor as the Eye drew closer and closer, seeking to engulf him completely and claim the object Frodo had on his finger

Frodo had been warned this would happen if he put the Ring on and this _had_ happened to him before, back in Bree. Panicked, Frodo stepped backwards and misplaced his foot, falling off backwards and off the edge of whatever he was standing on and simultaneously wrenching the Ring off his finger.

* * *

The Eye vanished. The world returned to normal and Frodo's body re-appeared… to drop about ten feet directly downwards and land with a thump on his back that knocked the wind out of him. Luckily, Frodo was light and wasn't to injured, but it still took him several seconds to regain his breath and try to sit up, the Ring clutched firmly in his hand, gasping for breath.

He could see that he was now at the base of some kind of large stone structure with stairs that led up to a flat roof where the eagle statue stood, on the top of a large hill which overlooked the lake and all the surrounding areas. Though Frodo didn't know it, this was the Seat of Seeing atop the hill of Amon Hen which served as an old watchtower in times gone by, but was now falling to ruin like everything else around this place.

As Frodo sat up and tried to regain his breath, another voice behind him suddenly caused him to whirl around as it said, "Frodo?" Eyes wild, Frodo now found himself looking up at Aragorn, who was looking down at him with one hand on the pommel of his sword and a look of apparent concern.

"It has taken Boromir," Frodo gasped out immediately.

Aragorn's face instantly became a mask and he started forwards with a deadly serious, "Where is the Ring?"

"Stay away!" Frodo immediately yelled, scrambling to his feet and fleeing, turning around to skitter backwards as Aragorn followed him until he was back under the Seat of Seeing.

"Frodo," protested Aragorn, coming to a stop next to the steps and holding his hands out to show he was not being threatening and allowing Frodo to come to a stop, still very much wary. "I swore to protect you."

"Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo challenged instantly.

Aragorn frowned, but a look of dawning comprehension appeared on his face a moment later. Aragorn was no fool and neither was Frodo. The Hobbit could see that the Ranger had figured out that he was planning to go alone already with that one sentence alone and Frodo saw Aragorn's eyes moving slowly down to his clenched fist, his face set in grim lines as he knew what lay within.

Frodo slowly allowed his fingers to uncurl, revealing the Ring nestled in the palm of his hand. Aragorn stared at the thing with a rather steely look mixed in with a great amount of unease. Frodo looked up at him again, a look of desperation in his eyes. "Would you destroy it?" he asked.

This was not an attempt to unload his burden onto somebody else. Frodo fully intended to carry the Ring all the way to Mount Doom. But he now needed Aragorn to let him go if he was to continue with his plan as he would never be able to outrun the Ranger and had no intention of putting the Ring back on now that Sauron was probably already staring at the general area where he was. And it was also a challenge – a challenge that clearly asked Aragorn if he could understand why Frodo had made this decision… could the other members of the Fellowship resist the Ring for much longer?

Slowly, his face unreadable, Aragorn walked closer to Frodo, his eyes fixed on the evil creation lying in the Hobbit's palm. He stopped just in front of Frodo and continued staring at it, swallowing in trepidation as he did so.

This was one of Aragorn's personal big tests, and one thing that he too had been worrying about for a while. He was the heir of Isildur, the man who had cut this very Ring from Sauron's finger three-thousand years ago, but who had also been instantly corrupted by it due to his weak spirit and had been unable to destroy it, thus dooming Middle Earth to have to suffer Sauron rising again now. Aragorn had long worried that he too would possess that weakness of his ancestor.

And now was the moment to find out.

_Aragorn._

Aragorn was barely aware of the voice that had suddenly appeared in the back of his head, faint and whispering like the deep breathing of some predatory creature in the night. He didn't even notice it, but when it occurred he felt drawn towards the Ring almost instantly and before he knew what he was doing he had stepped forwards and was reaching down towards Frodo's open hand with his own. Frodo fought the urge to flinch away as Aragorn's hand hovered uncertainly above his own.

_Aragorn._

The Ranger didn't move for a moment, staring at the Ring beneath his palm as if trying to decide what he was meant to do next.

_Elessar._

The voice had used one of his other names this time, an Elvish name given to him by Galadriel which translated to mean Elfstone due to the fact that he now wore the Evenstar of his beloved Arwen around his neck.

Aragorn remained hesitated for a moment, before a dark look flashed across his face and he brought his other hand down, dropping slowly down to his knees so that his eyes were level with Frodo's as he slowly took Frodo's hand in his own and closed the Hobbit's fingers around the Ring, shutting it out of his sight and sending a clear signal to Frodo that he had absolutely no desire to take the Ring from him, the little golden circlet separated from his grasp by Frodo's fingers.

"I would have gone with you to the end," Aragorn said earnestly, a look of tired resignation on his face "Into the very fires of Mordor." And then he gave Frodo his final approval, moving Frodo's clenched fist back to press it against the Hobbit's chest before letting go and deliberately moving his hands away. He had done it. He had passed the test that Isildur had failed so long ago. Who knew what would happen if he got any closer to Mordor but for now he was content to know that he had done it.

"I know," Frodo nodded.

There was a moment of silence between Man and Hobbit, both of them knowing what would happen next and neither of the liking the idea of Frodo going to Mordor on his own, but knowing that despite all their misgivings it was the right thing to do. It was only a matter of time before some of the other members of the Fellowship began to get similar urges to Boromir and began to obsess over the Ring themselves.

It seemed that this was that way that things had to be.

"Look after the others," Frodo requested sadly. "Especially Sam. He will not understand."

Aragorn nodded once, wordlessly giving Frodo his promise that he would do just that.

But then, something caught his attention and he glanced downwards, a frown appearing momentarily on his face before his eyes widened and he hissed, "Go, Frodo!" And he was back on his feet instantly, his long sword out of its scabbard and in his hand in a flash. Frodo gasped and looked down at his own short sword that was hanging from his waist and instantly saw what had alarmed Aragorn. He pulled the blade slightly out of its scabbard to get a better look.

Frodo's sword was of Elven make, and had been given to him by his uncle, Bilbo – the last person to carry the Ring. Bilbo had obtained the sword on his own adventures and had called it Sting because of how he had used it to stab many giant spiders of Mirkwood before passing it onto Frodo for his own journey. But one of the traits of the sword was that it glowed blue whenever orcs or their relatives like the goblins drew close to act as a warning to the one who wielded it.

And right now, Frodo's sword was practically ablaze with blue light.

Frodo looked up wildly as Aragorn stepped away to head back out from under the Seat of Seeing. Aragorn turned back and said, "Run." Frodo didn't move for a second, so Aragorn repeated, "Run!" more forcefully and turned to step out into the light. Frodo jolted back to his senses, sheathed his sword and immediately turned to flee into the trees with a whirl of his Elven cloak and Aragorn moved out into the open and immediately found himself face to face with the orcs in question.

They were filling the gap in the trees on the top of the hill and were almost level with the Seat already and had been moving quietly in the hope of surprising them, but now they could clearly see that their prey had sighted them and they snarled in anticipation, brandishing their weapons and baring their fanged teeth.

They were unlike any orc that Aragorn had ever encountered. They were taller, more upright like men and certainly of a sturdier and more powerful build. Whereas a rabble of orcs normally had little armour and the crudest possible weapons, these ones appeared to have the full ensemble, including helmet, thick breastplate and large spiked swords in one hand and a thick looking shield in another.

These were Uruk-Hai. The creations of evil that Saruman had sent after the Fellowship had finally caught up with them.

The front-runners wasted little time in running straight towards Aragorn at a snarl from one who appeared to be the leader and was without a helmet and had a bit white hand mark on the top half of his face. The Uruks at the front charged and the others behind picked up the pace, all eager for a piece of the single man standing before them. Aragorn held up his sword before his face for a moment in a warrior's salute, meeting the eyes of the lead Uruk for a moment before the first of his attackers reached him and swung its blade.

Aragorn was instantly in motion, ducking to the side as the sword went sailing over the side of his face and stepping past the Uruk to slash into the back of its legs with his own sword and drop it instantly. Aragorn swept back up to counter the blade of a second and push it away to follow up with and downwards stroke to the shoulder and follow up with a hefty punch to the nose of the Uruk behind it to send it tumbling to the ground with an unnatural squeal, knocking over its comrades in the process.

Two more tried to leap over the fallen bodies of their comrades but Aragorn swept his sword across in a single mighty slash the cut both of them across their midriffs through the chinks in their armour and caused them to fall backwards. Another leapt over and swung for him but Aragorn's sword was instantly up to block the attack, as was his foot which kicked the Uruk in the knee and elicited a snarl of pain as he knocked its sword away and slashed it across the neck.

A couple more approached from behind and tried to attack simultaneously but Aragorn whirled around to meet them, knocking the shield of one across with his sword to take the blow of the other in place of him. The Uruk quickly brought his shield back up to catch Aragorn's next blow and Aragorn was forced to duck underneath a slash from the second before he span around and plunged his sword through the second Uruk's chest and span about again, withdrawing his sword and slashing low under the shield to cut the other one across the pelvis.

Several of the Uruks had now overshot him and were trying to come at him from all angles. Having no desire whatsoever to be surrounded, Aragorn quickly dashed for the stairs of the Seat of Seeing and pelted up them, closely followed by several Uruks, one of them slashing at his heels and just missing by inches. Aragorn whirled about near the top of the stairs and caught the follow-up slash of the same Uruk on his blades, kicking it in the midriff to send it tumbling back down the stairs and into several of its comrades who all stumbled backwards as it fell.

One Uruk managed to avoid being hit and charged up to Aragorn, but the Ranger parried its strike and brought his sword hammering down into its chest to drop it as well, but more Uruks were swarming up over the bodies of their comrades so Aragorn backed further up to the top of the stairs to gain some more height. The first of the Uruks that reached the top with him slashed at his chest, which Aragorn blocked. Then it tried to slash from the mid-section but Aragorn turned its blade aside again, causing it to overshoot and go stumbling to the side, whereupon Aragorn nailed it in the back with his elbow and caused it to go tumbling off the edge of the Seat before turning to face the next incoming Uruks.

As the Uruks crowded around the bottom of the stairs, the tall leader, whose name was Lurtz and who had been the first and strongest Uruk-Hai to be created so far, roared out at them to remind them of what they had been sent here to do.

"Find the Halflings!" he bellowed pushing his way into the crowd with a furious snarl. "Find the Halflings!"

The Uruks quickly responded and the crowd around the steps changed course and began to run off towards the forest in the direction that Frodo in search of their real quarry and the burden that he carried. As Aragorn beheaded another Uruk with a clean swing of his sword, Lurtz' shout reached his ears and he looked over wildly as the Uruks plunged through the trees and away from him.

In a desperate and mad bid to stop as many of them from going as he could and keep their attention on him he dashed to the edge of the Seat, other swinging swords missing his Elven Cloak by inches behind him before he leapt right off the edge with a bellow of "Elendiiillllll!" He crashed on top of a large cluster of Uruks and brought them all crashing to the ground around him and fall flat onto their faces. Aragorn rolled over onto his back as another Uruk bore down on him with sword raised and swung his blade upwards so the Uruk literally impaled itself on the tip and fell across its length, collapsing on top of Aragorn in a dead heap.

Most of the Uruks were still fleeing into the forest to find the Hobbits but several others saw the opportunity of an easy kill with Aragorn pinned beneath the body of their comrade and close in on him. But suddenly, help was at hand when Legolas and Gimli suddenly arrived on the scene, dashing out from beneath the Seat and ready for battle. In the search for Frodo the Fellowship had scattered, and the Elf and Dwarf had heard the sounds of combat and instantly hurried to the area, the Elf with an arrow already strung on his bow and the Dwarf with his double-bladed battle-axe in hand.

Legolas let off his arrow with a swift and decisive shot straight to the neck of the first Uruk while Gimli lobbed a throwing axe which embedded itself into the forehead of another and dropped it instantly. Aragorn managed to push the body of the Uruk on him and surged upwards to plunge his sword through the stomach of another. Another Uruk bore down on him but Gimli cleaved straight through its thick chest armour with a mighty blow from his axe.

"Aragorn! Go!" Legolas cried as he pushed Aragorn in the direction the other Uruks were taking, while Gimli swung about to bowl another Uruk over with a swing of his axe. The Elf leapt backwards as two more Uruks ran towards him, stringing another arrow and firing it neatly into the chink in the armour of the first so it plunged straight into its body and came out the back, causing the second Uruk to crash straight into the back of his comrade and impale himself on the same arrow and make both of them fall backwards on top of one another. Another Uruk ran straight towards Legolas from the side, but Legolas pulled out another arrow and lunged forwards to stab him in the neck with it and drop him before pulling it out and stringing it, firing it into the forehead of the one behind it.

Aragorn dashed in front of several other Uruks to cut off their route into the forest and swept his blade across the legs of the first one, slashing through its shins so hard that it did a complete flip over. Aragorn rolled to the side as several more charged him, finding his back pressed against another old piece of ruin as one Uruk slammed its sword into his own to push him back against it. Quick as a flash, Aragorn drew the curved Knife given to him by Celeborn and plunged it into the Uruk's gut, wrenching his sword free to nail it in the face with a punch and duck aside as more came for him.

There seemed to be no end to the swarm of Uruks around them, but they had to find a way of protecting the Halflings.

* * *

Down by the boats, the beach was now completely empty. Every member of the Fellowship had scattered into the woods in search of Frodo, leaving the campsite abandoned and quiet as a doom, except for Gimli's fire which was sputtering weakly in the ring of stones where they had left it.

Which was why there was nobody there to greet Mervamon and Cutemon when the tall Amazonian Digimon and her passenger finally stepped into the camp.

"Here are the boats, kyu," Cutemon frowned as they paused to look around the empty campsite. "But where are all of the people that were in them?"

"I don't know," Mervamon muttered quietly, stepping out into the middle of camp and looking around in bemusement. "They should still be here."

"Do you think we missed them, kyu?" Cutemon asked sadly, his ears drooping. "Do you think they moved on and we'll have to keep looking to find out where we are? I still don't recognise any place that we've seen so far, kyu."

"And there's no sign of the others either," Mervamon agreed. "But I don't think that the people at this campsite have gone. Look, the fire's still going and a lot of their gear is still lying around the place. They're still here but… for some reason they've all gone off somewhere. How strange."

"Well, should we wait for them, kyu?" Cutemon perked up a little.

"I'm not sure how they'd take a pair of strangers like us in the middle of their campsite when they get back," Mervamon frowned. "But I fear that that is about the only option. Perhaps…" she suddenly stopped, stock-still, and listened without moving a muscle, straining her ears.

"What is it?" Cutemon whispered nervously.

"Ssh," Mervamon whispered, holding a finger up to her lips. Cutemon clamped his mouth shut and did just that, the two of them listening intently to the sounds of the forest around them. There was no birdsong and the distant sound of the giant waterfall rumbled in the background… but both of them heard something else in the distance as well…

…the sound of steel clashing against steel. The kind of sound that swords made when they struck against one another and it was happening frequently.

Mervamon's eyes narrowed. "I think that the people we were following have run into some kind of trouble."

"Fighting?" Cutemon murmured nervously. "There's a battle going on over there, kyu?"

"Indeed," Mervamon nodded, summoning her massive sword from thin air. "I don't know whether the people we were looking for were the good guys or the bad… but I say that we go in there and introduce ourselves."

Cutemon gulped but clenched his fists. "Let's do it, kyu!"

Mervamon let loose a yell from her lips and barrelled into the trees towards the sounds of combat.

* * *

She was not the only one who was charging through the woods having heard the sounds of swords. Sam Gamgee was rushing through the forest at breakneck speed for a Hobbit, shoving bushes aside and charging through the undergrowth of the forest. "Mister Frodo!" he was shouting at the top of his voice, desperately trying to find his best friend before the Uruk-Hai did and thus far having no luck.

Fear was gripping Sam tightly. He had not done a lot of fighting before and he was sure that if he came up against any orcs in the area then he would have a serious problem on his hands. But brave and loyal Sam Gamgee didn't care and plunged on regardless. If something happened to Frodo and he wasn't there to at least try and defend him then he would never be able to forgive himself for it.

* * *

Frodo himself was rapidly fleeing the Uruk Hai, stumbling through the undergrowth and his cloak snagging on the bushes as he pelted through the trees. He could hear the sound of the pursuing Uruks behind him, but when he glanced over his shoulder he could not yet see them. They were still too far away. But he knew that they were after him now and no matter how fast he ran he would never be able to outrun the powerful half-breeds.

He misplaced his footing as he was looking over his shoulder and knocked a small sapling with his shoulder and fell off a slight drop in the downward slope he was running down to tumble onto his back and go rolling, but he was immediately up and on his feet and running again moments later. The urge to put on the Ring suddenly gripped him again, but he shoved it back down desperately and scrambled upwards.

He picked a nearby tree and pulled himself behind its trunk, pressing his back against it and flattening himself between the trees thick roots as much as possible and hardly daring to breathe. The first wave of Uruks quickly bore down on the area where Frodo was lying crouched and Frodo could feel his heart pounding as they closed in on his position.

But it seemed that the Uruks, while tougher than a regular orc, still possessed the fairly limited intelligence and one track mind that most orcs had, for the Uruks did not bother looking around them as they ran. All of them just ran on straight past the tree and down the hill, completely missing the Hobbit that they were supposed to be tracking down. Frodo pressed himself closer to the tree and froze so as to not attract any more unwanted attention and, sure enough, the Uruks completely bypassed him.

The other Uruks were still at the top of the hill dealing with Aragorn's interruption so there was a momentary lull in the Uruks passing the tree. During this moment, Frodo heard a hissing voice from nearby. "Frodo."

Frodo glanced to his left and spotted the speaker was Merry, who was hiding in a thick bush and underneath a large, fallen log and peering out at him from nearby. Pippin was just over his shoulder, and the former hobbit made hurried beckoning motions while the latter called out, "Hide here, quick! Come on!"

But Frodo didn't move. He just stared at the two of them for several moments, like a deer caught in the headlights, a slow, sad look of resignation appearing on his face. Merry and Pippin both slowed to a halt and stared back, a frown appearing on Merry's face while Pippin just looked confused.

"What's he doing?" Pippin asked his companion, still staring across the gap at Frodo.

Merry did not answer for a moment, but he too was quite sharp when it came to realising what others were thinking. And Frodo knew it. The sadness on his face increased and he just shook his head in a silent message. He couldn't join them and just hide. He had to escape and quickly.

"He's leaving," Merry breathed in slight horror.

A look of shock flitted across Pippin's face and Frodo looked away, feeling the guilt welling up beside him at the prospect of leaving these two behind, who had stuck with him all the way from the Shire, longer than he could ask most any Hobbit to do so.

"No!" Pippin cried and suddenly scrambled forwards out of the bush and towards him.

"Pippin!" Merry hissed and pulled himself out after him, trying to pull him back in before he did something foolish. But at a snarl from above, Pippin pulled to a stop and grabbed Merry's shoulder, indicating up the hill, where the next wave of Uruk-Hai could clearly be seen running downwards, evidently having gotten past Aragorn again. The two of them stared in horror at the sheer numbers of the large orcs before them.

It was then that Merry knew they had to help Frodo get away no matter what the cost. He turned to his fellow Halfling and said quickly, "Run, Frodo! Go!"

Then, he turned back up the hill and pointed at the Uruks, yelling, "Hey! Hey you! Over here!" and leaping up and down, waving both arms, trying to get their attention.

Pippin caught on immediately and also shouted "Hey!" and copied Merry's actions. The Uruks spotted the two hobbits and snarls of triumph rippled through their ranks as they charged down straight towards them.

"Over here!" Merry yelled.

"This way!" Pippin cried as the two of them turned around and ran off in the complete opposite direction to Frodo, drawing the Uruks after them and away from Frodo's hiding place. The Uruks took the bait and dashed after them, gaining on them quickly as the small but brave hobbits ran helter-skelter down the hill and dodged around the trees.

Frodo actually had to suppress a sob in his throat, hoping against all hope that this was not the last time he saw his two dear friends before he pushed himself off from the trees and dashed in the direction of the boats, unnoticed by the Uruks and disappearing into the foliage quickly.

"It's working!" Pippin cried as he dashed over a small stone bridge over a ditch.

"I know it's working! Run!" Merry cried, pushing Pippin ahead of him as the Uruks drew closer with every passing second.

* * *

Legolas and Gimli had finally caught up with Aragorn again to help him against the wave upon wave of Uruk-Hai. Legolas had drawn the two long knives that he also had sheathed in his quiver and was using them to great effect, ducking under a wild slash from another Uruk and lashing upwards to stab it in the neck with both blades, pulling them out as the carcass dropped to the floor and spinning around as another Uruk slash went whistling over his head and stabbing his knives down into the Uruk's hip from behind and then lash out with one knife to parry another's strike while the other was brought lashing up into another's gut.

Aragorn had been knocked for a loop by the blow of another Uruk as he had dispatched it with his one sword and was hurriedly pushing himself back up to his feet as another bore down on him and slashed down. Aragorn was unable to raise his weapon in time, but Gimli's axe was suddenly in the way and parried the blow, hooking the blade and wrenching it aside with a heave of the Dwarf's strong muscles that disarmed the opponent and allowed him to cleave his axe right into the Uruk's stomach.

Another Uruk rounded the pillar Aragorn was standing next to and slashed at him, but Aragorn ducked and the sword clattered against stone. Quick as a flash, Aragorn plunged his dagger into the Uruk's navel, eliciting a roar of pain from it that turned into a yelp as Aragorn grabbed it and smacked its head into the pillar.

Gimli slammed the blow of another aside with ease and brought his axe slamming back into the side of its helmet to send it rolling, roars of battle on the Dwarf's lips as he took delight in the fighting. Aragorn grasped his sword and reversed it to stab through another Uruk approaching from behind, withdrawing the blade and whirling back to kick it in the chest and send it sprawling and dead.

* * *

Merry and Pippin ran on through the forest with the Uruks gaining with every passing second, but as they neared the foot of the giant hill of Amon Hen and dashed across another small bridge, Merry suddenly pulled to a halt and threw an arm out to stop Pippin. To the horror of both, the Uruks that had run past the before had doubled back on themselves and were coming straight towards them, so now there were enemies on both sides.

One of the Uruks had a giant single-bladed axe and was bearing down on the Hobbits with a savage grin of success.

There was nowhere to run.

And then, dashing up the hill from the side came Boromir, sword drawn and a grimace on his face as he charged into battle, determined to redeem himself after what had happened between him and Frodo. The Uruk with the axe raised his weapon at the Hobbits but was blindsided by Boromir who seized the handle of his weapon and rammed into him, kicking him in the groin and spinning him around to slam the axe blade right between his shoulder blades and slay the Uruk instantly.

Other Uruks closed in and raised their blades to strike out at Boromir, but Merry and Pippin suddenly remembered that they too had sword and quickly drew them, ducking under the guards of the Uruks and plunging their blades into the stomachs of two more and pushing them back despite their small build. Boromir swung his sword wide and cut across the necks of two others with a mighty arc and hurled a dagger from his other hand that plunged into the neck of a third, which shrieked and collapsed in a heap.

Boromir quickly got the two Hobbits, who had far less combat experience, behind him and turned to face the other oncoming foes, whirling his sword once deftly in his hand and wishing that he had his shield, which he had left back at camp. As the other Uruks closed in and Boromir quickly cut through the last of the original front-runners, he whirled around to seize the hand of another that was about to slash at him and plunge his blade into its pelvis and hurl it backwards into two of its comrades and swung his sword at another to bat its shield out of the way and cleave it from hip to shoulder and whirl about to parry the slash of another and muscle forwards, ramming it to the ground and stabbing the fallen body.

He withdrew his blade as more and more kept appearing over the lip of the rise above them, knowing that he had to protect Merry and Pippin at all costs and throwing himself into battle.

* * *

Legolas plucked his knife out of the corpse of another dead Uruk where he had thrown it and brought it slashing up to parry and overhead blow from another. Quick as a flash, the Elf span around, throwing the enemy's blade out wide and whirling back around to slash both knives through the Uruks chest not once but twice in rapid succession, eviscerating the Uruk's front and dropping it like a rock.

Another Uruk ran towards him and this one had a shield which it was holding in front of it, ready to take any hits Legolas threw at it. Legolas bided his time until the Uruk was almost on him and them sprang straight upwards, grabbing the branch of a tree and hauling his legs up so that not only did the Uruk's slash miss and strike the trunk but Legolas also-double kicked him in the face and sent him sprawling. Legolas dropped down, sheathing one knife and unslinging his bow again in a single fluid motion before plunging his remaining knife into the fallen Uruk's stomach.

As two more Uruks bore down on him, Legolas' hand shot up to sheath his other knife and pull two arrows out of his quiver simultaneously and pull them both back on his bow at the same time, letting fly so that each arrow slammed into the forehead of one Uruk and knocked them backwards with no life in their bodies.

Nearby, Gimli seemed to be having the time of his life. He slammed the butt of his axe into the face of one Uruk and ducked under a slash from the one on his other side before bringing the other end of his axe slamming upwards with such force that he broke the Uruk's neck, allowing Gimli to whirl about and bring his axe striking down into the chest of the one lying on the floor. Three other Uruks came charging towards him together, but Gimli was ready and waiting for them.

The sturdy Dwarf ran to meet them and slammed his axe handle up to catch the strikes of two of the Uruks before he whipped himself around to cleave the legs out from the third. One of the remaining two lashed out at Gimli again but Gimli slammed his axe upwards with enough force to actually snap the blade in the parry and allow his axe to slam the Uruk upside the head and slay him, leaving Gimli more than able to take down the final Uruk with a downward cleave straight to the forehead, splitting the helmet and taking the life from the Uruk's body.

"Hey Legolas!" he called over to the Elf as he stepped over the Uruk's body and parried the strike of another. "Do you think we should turn this into some sort of competition?" He swung his axe around so its end caught the Uruk in the face and twisted it around, allowing him to sweep the blade into the small of its back. "See which of us can kill the most of these guys?"

"Perhaps next time, Master Dwarf!" Legolas called back, leaping backwards as another Uruk took a vain swing at the Elf's head and fired an arrow in mid-jump that thudded into the Uruk's throat. "I fear that I have not been counting this time. We would not get an accurate account of what happened."

"Fair enough," Gimli nodded, spinning about to charge under another clumsy swing and ram his _head_ into the chest of the next Uruk and throw him to the ground with his sturdy weight.

"Gimli! Behind you!" Aragorn suddenly yelled from where he was grappling with another Uruk that had managed to get hold of him and was gnashing its teeth in his face. Gimli spun about to see an Uruk had managed to gain some height and had leapt off an old piece of ruin, falling towards him with a furious snarl and sword raised.

Gimli hefted his axe and prepared to swing up while Legolas strung an arrow and prepared to fire at the same time.

But neither of them got the chance to kill the Uruk. Someone else beat them to it.

An enormous sword, larger in width than Legolas' whole body came spinning out of the trees and thudded straight into the Uruk point first, practically splitting it in half and impaling it against the wall it had jumped off, causing it to hang there in a grisly display of death. For a moment, all activity ceased – even the other Uruks were shocked into silence. The Uruk that was grappling with Aragorn stopped moving and the two of them looked like they were good friends hugging one another after so long apart as they all stared at the enormous sword.

Then there was a tremendous roar and a rumbling sound that chilled the blood of every single Uruk as everyone whirled around to look for the source and saw a woman with long green hair almost half as tall again as even Aragorn or Legolas and with what appeared to a huge _snake_ for an _arm_ of all things thundered through the trees nearby, a furious battle-cry on her lips and her hair streaming out behind her as she dashed into the frey.

The Uruks didn't know what hit them. Two of them were bowled over with a swipe of the snake arm before they knew what was happening and hit tree trunks with sickening crunches and the woman grabbed another by the neck in her only real hand and spun it around, slamming it into the ground and snapping its neck with ease before she sprang up, snake-arm lashing outwards to close the jaws around the midriff of another and swing him like a bat, cannoning him right into four others all while the woman kept running.

"What…?" Gimli gasped as the tall woman ran past him and wrenched the sword out of the wall, causing the body it was impaling to fall in a heap as she turned around and snarled, fangs clearly prominent in her mouth.

"Alright then," the woman growled. "Does anybody else want to mess with me?"

Legolas strung his bow and pointed it at the woman warily as the other Uruks backed away uncertainly.

"No wait, kyu," cried a high-pitched voice and even Legolas started when a small rabbit-like creature which was… pink… jumped out of the bushes and waved its arms at him. "Don't shoot, kyu. Mervamon is on your side." It hesitated and said, "You are the good guys, right?"

"Good… guys…" Legolas faltered. "I… suppose, yes. We fight against the forces of evil."

"Well then, you just got yourself a new battle partner," the woman, now dubbed Mervamon smirked as she hefted her sword. "Shall we continue?"

Shaking himself out of his stunned state, Aragorn remembered what they were supposed to be doing and slammed his head forwards, breaking the nose of the Uruk who was gripping him and knocking him to the ground, where Aragorn finished him off with a plunge of his sword.

The motion seemed to spark a reaction which got the whole battleground moving again and the Uruks immediately charged back into battle. Legolas whirled around and released the arrow into another and pulled out four more successively to shoot down one Uruk each. Gimli charged forwards to bat the sword of another aside and crash his blade into its pelvis. And Aragorn hurried forwards and plunged his blade through another Uruk and shoved it aside while barely stopping in his stride as Mervamon leapt into battle.

A swarm of Uruks charged towards Mervamon, but her eyes narrowed as she dashed in to meet them. With a mighty swing of her sword she cleaved two clean in half and span around to extend her snake arm out and bowl a further two over. She levelled out her sword to catch the blades of two other Uruks and thrust forwards to bear them to the ground, cutting through their swords and their bodies in the same motion before whirling around slam her spiked foot across the face of another.

Her snake arm changed direction and seized another Uruk in its jaws to toss it skywards with a flick of its head. Mervamon brought up her foot and booted another approaching Uruk in the face without even having to lift it up excessively high and send it flying back with such force that it bowled over several of its comrades, allowing Mervamon to swing her sword out to one side to slice across two others and then back the other way to decapitate another.

Aragorn hurried to her side and sliced the tip of his sword across the neck of another Uruk that as approaching from the side and slammed his sword into the top of another's blade to send it spiralling out of its hand and allowed him to double back his swing and cut through its throat.

"Listen," he called across to Mervamon. "I don't know who you are, and frankly I don't know what you are but I shall ask questions later. Right now, I suppose thanks are in order."

"Don't thank me yet either," Mervamon scowled, burying the tip of her sword into another Uruk, lifting it into the air and tossing it aside to crash into another. "We still have to win this battle first. And then I have a few questions of my own for all of you."

"Wise decision," nodded Aragorn, skewering another Uruk through the navel as Mervamon's snake-arm lashed around to more and slammed them together, constricting them in its coils as she continued to swing her sword deftly.

The rabbit creature gasped as it saw another Uruk charging straight towards it, but suddenly Legolas was standing over it and caught the swing of its sword on his bow, twisting it aside and slamming it in the face with it like a staff before drawing an arrow and shooting it into its fallen body.

"Thank you, kyu," the bunny grinned up at him.

"No trouble… whoever you are," Legolas nodded, reaching upwards towards another arrow.

But then, a sudden clear bugling note echoed through the trees in the distance, blasting three times in deep thrumming noises.

"What is that, kyu?" the bunny asked.

"It's the Horn of Gondor," Legolas' eyes widened.

"Boromir needs help," Aragorn cried and dashed off into the trees in the direction the call had come from, crashing past an Uruk as he went. The bunny looked over and caught Mervamon's eyes and the tall Amazonian woman nodded, barrelling over and scooping Cutemon up to place him on her shoulder as she dashed through the forest as well.

* * *

Hooray! My first proper fight scene of this crossover is now underway and while the majority of it was, like the dialogue, pretty much the same thing that happened in the movie, it was still fun to write and hopefully it gave me some practice about fighting with swords that are _not_ lightsabers. And yes, I know the bit with the Digimon appearing was brief and only happened at the end but the good news is that now it has happened, they will be together for virtually all of the next chapter, so yay!

Until next time then. Hope you liked it.

* * *

Next time…

There is no time for questions as to what's going on at the present time. There is action to be done. Boromir desperately holds off the orcs as they swarm him and the Hobbits, while Aragorn and Mervamon hurry down to try and help. And Frodo, still unaware of the existence of the Digimon will finally make his leave and depart for Mordor.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 9 : The Amazon and the Healer**


	9. The Amazon and the Healer

Hallo! Hidy dody doody there! Back again and raring for some more action. I hope that you like some of the interactions between the characters in this chapter and I hope that it gets you psyched for the rest of the story. Things are going to be heating up now. It will take a while to boil considering all the different characters in all the different locations, but it will really begin to bubble soon enough.

**Alliance Empire** – Seriously, the only thing you need to do to enable your PM function is to go to you're the main section of the fanfiction login page and hit yes on the "Accept Private Messages (PM)" bit. It would make this much easier and the message get sent to your inbox like any other fanfiction update. Anyway, the answer to your question is – both.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 9:- The Amazon and the Healer**

* * *

As Legolas and Gimli continued to fend off the Uruk-Hai that were still coming down the hill towards them, Aragorn and the two newcomers to the battle hared on further down in the direction of the trumpeting horn that occasionally blared through the forest. Mervamon had very little clue as to what was going on but she had gathered enough to know that the sound of the horn meant someone was in trouble, probably a companion to the three people they had already met.

And she was going to be damned if she just stood by while someone else was in trouble.

Cutemon, who was riding on her shoulder, pointed ahead and cried, "There's more of them coming this way, kyu!"

And he was right. Several of the Uruks had noticed the three heading in the same direction they were and had doubled back on themselves. One of them ran up to Aragorn and tried a swing at his head, but the Ranger brought his sword up and slammed the blade aside, delivering a hammer blow to the side of the Uruks face with his fist and sending it rolling and dodging the blow of a second to plunge his sword through the abdomen of a second and shove it forwards so he could keep running with barely a pause.

Mervamon had to admit she was impressed with this guy's swordsmanship, but she had little time to admire his handiwork, because some of the braver Uruks were heading towards her as well, despite the fact she was a lot taller than they were. She couldn't help but smirk to herself as she hefted both her arms. They were welcome to try and take her on.

The first Uruk swept almost clumsily at her knees and it was just a simple matter of leaping over it and planting her feet squarely on his shoulder and flatten him to the ground instantaneously. Two more rushed her from opposite directions but she swept her sword out to slam one with the flat of the enormous blade and send him catapulting into the second and send them both flying, and then as a couple more dashed towards her from the front she threw herself into a spinning leap, beheading one with a neat swing of the sword and bringing her foot crashing into the throat of another.

As she landed, her snake arm lanced out to the side and its jaws clamped over the top half of another Uruk and coiled around another pair, hefting all three of them into the air and then unwinding savagely, sending each of them flying in different directions.

Now Aragorn had to admit that he was impressed as he shoved another Uruk out of the way and swung himself brutally around to slice through another's midriff and keep on running. Whoever and whatever this woman was she was an extremely capable warrior and he was incredibly thankful that, at least for the present, she appeared to be on his side.

But another horn blast from Boromir snapped his focus back and he hurried off through the forest wordlessly, the mysterious woman hard on his heels.

* * *

Boromir was fighting like a madman, using every ounce of his considerable strength as he held the Uruk-Hai back, determined to protect Merry and Pippin as the two hobbits continued to step backwards, swords drawn but with fear on their faces. Having dispatched one Uruks with a blow to the back of its knees, Boromir looked up to see another almost upon him with sword already raised, so he quickly threw himself forward and rammed his shoulder into its pelvis, pushing upwards and heaving the Uruk off its feet and over his back to crash to the ground in a heap.

Boromir lashed around and finished the downed Uruk off with a downwards cleave of his sword, seizing his curved white horn again and blowing into it, desperately calling out for assistance. All he could see were more Uruks streaming out of the trees ahead of him in their dozens. Boromir was strong but he very much doubted he would be able to hold off this many Uruks for long. He needed help.

Ushering Merry and Pippin away he spun around to catch the sword-swing of the next Uruk and swiftly rebuffed it, arcing his sword down to slice off the Uruk's arm and send it tumbling to the ground. Another Uruk tried to sneak around him and get at the Hobbits, but Pippin suddenly took everyone by surprise by leaping at it and latching onto its chest, carrying it to the ground. Merry hurried to join him as Boromir swept his sword across the neck of another and parried another's attack, muscling forwards with a cry and throwing it of its feet to bring his sword plunging down into its chest. Merry and Pippin quickly did the same to the Uruk they were lying on and finished it off, grimaces on their faces as they did so.

Boromir swung upwards and caught the sword of the next Uruk with such force it went shooting out of its hand and impaled it forcefully on his blade, kicking it off and sending it crashing into another Uruk coming up behind. Boromir looked up wildly as another swung at his neck and he brought his sword up to block just as a second Uruk swung at him from the other side. In a mad flare of improvisation, Boromir lashed up with his other hand and caught the fist of the second Uruk in his palm, halting the blow and then swinging it across so the Uruk's sword slashed across the other Uruk and killed it instantly, allowing Boromir to pull his sword away and ram it into the gut of the second Uruk.

But more and more Uruks just kept coming, their numbers seeming to multiply with every passing second. "Run! Run!" Boromir yelled, turning and steering the hobbits further into the trees and following behind them backwards as best as he could, spinning up to block another swing and stab the offending Uruk before it could blink.

* * *

Mervamon and Aragorn kept running but it seemed that every time they ran ten paces, more Uruks came in from the front and the side to try and best them. Aragorn had shoved one to its knees and slashed across its neck before it could get back up and Mervamon had actually managed to cleave one in _half_ such was the brutal strength of her swing.

Almost without realising what they were doing, the two of them were beginning to co-ordinate themselves and work more as a team. As they ran they stuck close to one another, Mervamon darting across Aragorn to slash through an Uruk closing in on his left as the man himself slammed another between the eyes with the pommel of his sword. Aragorn then spun around to cut through another Uruk that had leapt at Mervamon and whirled back around in time to see Mervamon's snake arm swing across and bowl to others in front of him away as if it were a club, and Aragorn quickly drew his dagger and flung it right in front of Mervamon's stomach to ram into the belly of another.

The two of them shared a brief nod at one another before they continued to run on. By this point though, many of the Uruks had realised that the two of them were extremely dangerous as they fought together and now they had turned around and were charging at them en masse. As Aragorn retrieved his dagger and then two of them kept running, they were heading right into the thick of the charging Uruk-Hai.

Aragorn had to suppress an urge to hiss in frustration. They didn't have the _time_ to battle their way through all these Uruks – they had to get to Boromir now!

Almost as he thought it, Mervamon cried, "Cutemon! Clear a path!"

Cutemon beamed. "Yay! I get to do something, kyu!" he cried as Mervamon raised her snake arm. Cutemon sprang from her shoulder and planted his feet on her ridged arm, sliding down it as if he was on a snowboard right as Mervamon extended it out towards the charging Uruks. Cutemon slid down the arm and flipped onto the snake-head right as it pulled to a stop in front of the Uruks and gathered his strength within his chest to cry:-

"**SUPER-SONIC WAVE!"**

With a scream, a series of green sound waves erupted from Cutemon's mouth and washed over the Uruks right before they reached him. Even fifteen yards away as Aragorn was and the sound almost tore his ear-drums. To the Uruks it was agony and they jerked to a halt as if they had all crashed into an invisible wall, hands dropping their weapons and slamming up to their ears, howling as the collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

Mervamon gripped Aragorn by the shoulder and hurried him forwards and Cutemon stopped his attack and allowed Mervamon to reel him back in and hop back onto her shoulder as the Digimon and the Man bounded over the fallen, groaning Uruks and pelted back on down the hill.

* * *

Boromir valiantly fought on as the Uruks piled in on him, pushing him backwards ever further and forcing him to move swifter and more elaborately to try and keep up with them all and kill them before another could take a swing at him from another direction. Sweat gleamed on his forehead as he kept the giant orcs at bay, slamming one's shield aside and kicking his feet out from underneath him, swinging around in the same motion to block the strike of another, seize him and shove him down on top of the first one and them stab through them both as they lay there.

He moved forwards instantly, cleaving upwards to thwack through another's waist and knock his sword high in the same swing and then brought the pommel of his sword hammering down on another's helmet, cutting off its vision and causing it to yelp as Boromir rammed it in the chest with his shoulder and piled it into three others as he spun another to thrust his blade past the guard of another.

The two Hobbits were doing their best to help and their efforts were proving surprisingly useful. Both of them were now throwing large stones past Boromir at the oncoming Uruks, and while this certainly didn't kill the adversaries it did stun them for a few seconds or even knocked them off their feet, lessening the surge of Uruks that were reaching Boromir all at once and giving him an easier time of it, though it was still proving difficult even for the mighty warrior.

A throw from Pippin caught one squarely between the eyes and brought him thudding down to the ground and Merry quickly followed up by throwing two rocks in rapid succession, catching one in the throat and bowling them both flat right before they reached Boromir, allowing the Gondorian the time to cut another's legs out from underneath it and slash across the chest of the next and dent its armour considerably before sending it rolling with a well-placed punch to the nose and round on the next one to stab it with such force that his sword came plunging out the other side and forced another Uruk to skid to a stop before it impaled itself on the blade, allowing Pippin to hit it in the face with another rock and knocking it over.

But, as Boromir rounded to face the next and slam its shield back and forth with his sword before it could swing its own sword, causing it to lose feeling in its arm and drop the shield numbly so Boromir could slash across its chest with ease, another Uruk appeared over the rise. Technically there were still lots coming over the rise, but unlike the others this one was walking at a calm and sedate pace. It was unhelmeted, had a snarl on its face and a large white hand pasted upside-down on his face.

It was Lurtz – the first of the Uruk-Hai to be born and the strongest one yet.

Lurtz pulled to a stop at the top of the rise as more Uruks streamed past, watching for a second as Boromir continued to wreak havoc on the other Uruks. The ground was littered with their bodies and Boromir hacked through the chest of one and the stomach of another in the same motion and swung back instantly to carve the chest of the second as well and send them both crashing to the ground. He was showing no signs of stopping, despite the hordes of other Uruks that were still cascading at him. And Lurtz could see the two Hobbits throwing rocks behind Boromir.

They were the ones Saruman had sent them for.

So the Gondorian had to go.

And that was why, as Boromir cut another one across the hip and knocked it over and a couple of more rocks from the hobbits zinged overhead to smack into the heads of the other Uruks, Lurtz raised the bow in his hand, drawing one arrow from the quiver at his waist as he did so and slowly drew it on its string, savouring the moment and snarling in anticipation as he did so.

Boromir whipped around and batted the shield out of the hands of another and slammed it upside the chin with his blade, unaware of the danger at the top of the rise. And as soon as the Uruk feel aside, Lurtz had a clear shot.

He took it.

Boromir half-turned to face the next Uruks but the thick black arrow thudded into his chest right above his heart. The wind was knocked completely out of him as the arrow punctured his lung and he staggered backwards, shock spreading across his face as he struggled for breath.

Merry, who had been about to hurl another rock, pulled to a stop and both the hobbits stared in absolute horror as Boromir, wheezing and his breath coming out in a ragged gasp, slowly collapsed to his knees, staring almost dumbly at the arrow protruding from his chest and his sword drooping to the ground. As he struggled to draw in more air, Lurtz snarled in triumph and began to make his way down the hill as more Uruks moved forwards.

But if the Uruks thought Boromir was finished they were wrong. Despite the pain and his lack of breath, Boromir wrenched his thoughts back to the battle and with a cry of desperation he surged back to his feet and swatted aside the sword of another Uruk before it could react, slammed its across the head and plunged his sword into its gut, withdrawing it sharply as more came towards him. Merry and Pippin could only stare as the warrior fought on despite his mortal wound.

Lurtz was mildly surprised, but he calmly made his way down the hill and closer to the action as Boromir, with teeth clenched continued to lay into Uruk horde, slashing another across the shoulder and slamming it in the face with his fist and desperately swiping around to cut the throat of another.

But Lurtz had already drawn a second arrow on his bowstring and as Boromir turned back he let fly again. Boromir yelled and staggered backwards as this arrow slammed into his waist just above his belt. He let out a ragged wheeze of air and his hand flew to the arrow, but the moment he touched it more pain just went jolting through him. He sank down to his knees again, hunched over and chest heaving, every breath filling him with pain as Lurtz let out a louder snarl of triumph this time.

Boromir was blacking out, the arrows had punctured vital organs and he almost keeled over onto his side, but was able to catch himself slightly and maintain his upright position on his knees, sucking in as much air as possible and getting horribly little for each lungful. The Uruks were taking their time now, snarling as they stepped closer. It seemed that the mighty warrior was, at last, finished.

Merry and Pippin were rooted to their spot in horror, their eyes locked on the terrible sight of the wounded Boromir crouched before them, blood seeping from the arrow wounds and soaking into his tunic. Neither of them could think of anything to do, their brains numb at the prospect of what they were seeing. And as Boromir crouched there, the two arrows protruding from him heaving with every motion of his chest, he looked up at the two of them. His eyes met theirs and for a moment they could do nothing but stare at one another with shock and dismay.

But, as Boromir sat there, slowly losing consciousness and blood, a sudden and desperate surge filled him and with one final cry he surged back to his feet and whirled around, slower than he would have been able to do otherwise but still catching the closest Uruks off guard. He knew that he was finished now, but while he still had the strength to stand he would not let the Uruks near the halflings.

His sword flashed across the chest of the first Uruk and threw it to the ground, causing another to clumsily trip over its comrade as it swung clumsily at him. Boromir parried the strike almost as clumsily but threw his shoulder forwards and caught the stumbling Uruk in the side, knocking him over and allowing Boromir to practically fall on top of him sword first. Teeth clenched and still gasping Boromir looked up to see another Uruk closing in on him.

He managed to heave himself up and catch its blow, and with a desperate pain-filled roar he raised his sword high and slammed it down vertically and slew the Uruk on the spot, bringing it tumbling down and almost throwing himself over too.

Boromir slowly and agonisingly tried to push himself upwards but right as he did, a third arrow was released from Lurtz' bowstring. This one crashed into his chest just beneath his ribcage and this time Boromir had barely any strength left to even gasp. Now with three arrows protruding from his chest, he sank slowly to his knees and this time, he knew he would not be able to get back up.

He just sat there, all his remaining energy being taken up just by staying upright. He could barely breath and he could feel the blood seeping out of his vicious wounds and spilling down his front.

It was over.

As they beheld the man who had valiantly been defending them even after being shot twice crouching there with arrows sticking out of his front, Merry felt grief course through his body, knowing there was nothing any of their company could do to save Boromir now. As tears leaked from his eyes he seized his sword and gave a loud stricken battlecry as he turned and ran straight towards the oncoming Uruks. Pippin quickly followed his example and the two little Hobbits charged in with swords raised high.

It was a futile gesture. Neither of them were great warriors and had survived thus far under the protection of the others. Now that the threat had been neutralised, the remaining Uruks could get back to their main mission of taking the Hobbits alive. The first two Uruks that ran up did exactly that and seized the two Halflings under one arm before they could do so much as swing their swords. Merry and Pippin were instantly lifted into the air, their swords prized from their grasps and discarded as they were hoisted upwards and onto the shoulders of the Uruks who had grasped them.

The two of them struggled and Merry beat on the back of his captor but it was no use. The Uruks were oblivious to it and manhandled the Hobbits with ease as they ran past the mortally wounded Boromir. They knew he was finished now and every single Uruk ran past the crouching Gondorian and charged off into the forest, ignoring him completely as he sat there and continued to gasp. Out of the corner of his eye, Boromir saw Merry and Pippin yelling and kicking as they were carried away, but he couldn't do anything for them now. He could barely do anything at all.

It seemed to take several minutes for all of the Uruks to run on by and Merry and Pippin were quickly lost to Boromir's sight. This was made all the more horrible for Boromir in that this was his second failure today and now he could only watch as his charges were taken away. And soon, the clearing that he had battled hard in was empty except for Boromir himself, the scattered bodies of all the Uruks that he had slain and one single Uruk-Hai that was stepping slowly in front of him and came to a stop.

Boromir looked up slowly, even that taking considerable effort, and found himself looking into the cruel, smirking face and yellow eyes of Lurtz. The two held their gazes for several moments as the sounds of the other Uruk-Hai faded away into nothingness and it was just them. Lurtz growled lowly to himself, not uttering a single word as he fitted another arrow to his bowstring and slowly pulled it backwards. Boromir could only watch as the arrow was sighted on his forehead, and his face twisted into one final pained look of defiance as Lurtz growled goodbye.

And it was at that point that Aragorn crashed into Lurtz' side, taking the Uruk-Hai off guard and causing his arrow to fly wide and strike a nearby tree instead as both Aragorn and Lurtz went rolling to the ground and down a slight hill, before they pulled to a stop and scrambled to a stop. Lurtz proved to be very resilient and was immediately back on his feet grabbing a shield and sword from a fallen Uruk and slashing out at Aragorn. Aragorn blocked the strike but the strength of the Uruk leader took him by surprise and he was shoved backwards with incredible force to crash into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Lurtz roared and flung the pointed shield directly at Aragorn, but the moment he did Mervamon dashed in and batted the shield aside with her sword, sending it catapulting backwards to slam Lurtz across the face and send him reeling. Mervamon gripped her sword and levelled it at Lurtz, leaping into the air and slashing it down with high force. Lurtz managed to roll aside at the last second as the huge sword buried itself in the turf and as Mervamon tried to pull it out, Lurtz lashed out with a fist and caught Mervamon in the jaw.

Mervamon barely flinched. "You call that a punch?" she asked and she backhanded the Uruk with her snake arm and sent him bodily flying across the clearing to crash into another tree trunk with enough force to break the back of any Man. But Lurtz was made of stern stuff and scrambled back to his feet, hefting his sword as he did so.

Boromir stared in shock from where he was still crouched, but he was slowly beginning to black out now and he collapsed onto his back. From Mervamon's shoulder, Cutemon gasped when he spotted the wounded Man and bounded from his perch. "Mervamon, kyu! I need some help, kyu!" he cried as he hurried over to him.

Mervamon's head swung over and she grimaced, her eyes widening as she took in the stricken human. She turned back to Aragorn and said, "You think you can handle Big and Grotesque over there?"

Aragorn nodded wordlessly and he hefted his sword and charged Lurtz. Mervamon turned and bounded over to Boromir, reaching him at the same time that Cutemon did and plunging her sword into the ground beside him.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. "Can you still feel anything?"

"Who… who are…" Boromir coughed, but he was barely able to say anything with much effort and he gasped in pain as he continued to lose strength.

Mervamon could see that this was a bad time to be asking questions so she acted quickly. She knew that the arrow wounds needed to be treated quickly but they couldn't do that until they took the arrows out… which was going to hurt. A lot. Unless… she raised her snake arm and its forked tongue lashed out and slipped a gap in the hole in Boromir's tunic that the arrow had made to coat his skin around the puncture with saliva.

Boromir winced, but Mervamon said, "It's an anaesthetic. It'll numb the pain but this is still going to hurt." She grabbed one of ribbons hanging form her helmet, bunched it up and shoved it onto Boromir's mouth. "Bite on this so you don't break your teeth." Then, gripping the arrow beneath his ribcage, she yanked it out, barb and all. Boromir let loose a scream of pain, though the effect was minimized by the ribbon in his mouth and it was a good deal less painful than it should have been.

As the wound began to bleed profusely and Mervamon moved on to the next arrow, Cutemon bounced up next to Boromir and said, "Don't worry! You'll be okay! **SKILLFUL HEAL!"** he held up his hands over the open wound and an orb of glowing green energy appeared in front of his palms and washed over the wound. Instantly, Boromir felt… strange and, to his astonishment, he saw the wound beginning to close right before his eyes.

"Be quick, Cutemon!" Mervamon instructed, anaesthetising the wound in Boromir's chest. "His life hangs in the balance."

* * *

Meanwhile, Aragorn and Lurtz were engaged in a fight to the death and unfortunately Aragorn's weariness from his previous fighting was telling, whereas Lurtz was still mostly fresh apart from the enormous bruising his back had undergone moments before. Aragorn slashed out for Lurtz' midriff in three successive strokes, but Lurtz' blade was there to catch it each time and he retaliated with a swing to the head, which Aragorn only just managed to duck underneath and he saw Lurtz' fist come swiping in moments later to strike him squarely in the side of the face and send him rolling.

Lurtz pursued quickly and attempted to slash down at him but Aragorn continued rolling deliberately and managed to avoid the strike and push himself to his feet, catching Lurtz' next swing on his own sword and managing to be the one to shove _him_ back a little this time. Aragorn cleaved downwards at his skull but Lurtz parried easily enough. But it left his legs exposed and allowed Aragorn to kick him in the knee and cause his leg to buckle. However, as Aragorn swung down for the finishing blow Lurtz dropped further down and took Aragorn's own legs out from under him, sending both of them rolling several metres before Lurtz scrambled up and dragged Aragorn up with him. HHHHHHhH

Before Aragorn could stop him, the Uruk-Hai had slammed his head right into Aragorn's own with a force that almost bowled him over and would have done had not Lurtz grabbed him, pulled him back and then swung him around to hurl him away. Aragorn rolled and attempted to get up, still relatively dazed as Lurtz charged towards him to finish the job. But just before the Uruk could deliver the final blow, Aragorn gained enough sense to swing up and block again, allowing him to draw his curved dagger from its sheath and plunge it into Lurtz' gut.

Lurtz let out a snarl of pain but the dagger was not going to be enough to finish him and he wrenched backwards, causing Aragorn to lose his grip on the knife and have to fight to stay on his feet. Lurtz pursued and traded five brutal blows upon the Ranger which he struggled desperately to block. Only then did he draw the dagger from his stomach and stabbed it straight towards Aragorn's face.

With energy born of furious desperation, Aragorn swiped his sword across himself to knock the dagger out of Lurtz hand and spun around to swing the sword back in the same direction and slice right through Lurtz' arm at the wrist. But Lurtz still had his sword arm and he swung it for Aragorn's exposed head. Aragorn dropped down and plunged his sword backwards to stab into Lurtz' stomach, twisting around so he was facing the Uruk again and muscling him backwards.

This would have been more than enough to kill any of the normal Uruks but Lurtz was made of much sterner stuff than even they were. Aragorn was taken off guard as Lurtz' fangs suddenly darted towards his face and neck and he backed away hurriedly, drawing his sword out of the Uruk leader and blocking another sword swipe. Lurtz was slower but he still had a lot of fight left in him.

Nearby, Mervamon had just pulled out the third and final arrow from Boromir's body and Cutemon was piling on all his effort to try and close the mortal wounds. The Amazon looked over at the two combatants and saw that neither of them were doing particularly well against the other. Her eyes narrowed and she wondered if she should intervene or not. Some warriors took offence when you interfered with a one on one battle like this one.

But while she had not seen much of this Aragorn person he had not struck her as that sort of person. Nevertheless, she needed to stay by this other suffering man, but she did have other ways of helping besides the sword. Placing her snake arm, which was actually known as the Medullia, on the ground, she allowed it to extend outwards and slither across the turf towards the conflict while the rest of her stayed put in the same place.

As Aragorn and Lurtz traded more furious blows, the former became aware of what Mervamon was doing, spotting the incoming snake out of the corner of his eye. As it approached he put all of his strength into throwing Lurtz backwards towards the snake and before Lurtz knew what was happening the Medullia had risen upwards and was right next to his head, and exhaled a large amount of noxious gas right into Lurtz' face.

Lurtz roared and flailed whacking the Medullia in the nose with his sword and not causing much of a reaction from it. Aragorn saw his chance and dashed inwards, holding his breath as it swung with all his might. Lurtz vaguely saw what he was doing and tried to block, but his sword was sent spinning out of his hand and Aragorn retaliated instantly with a horizontal cleave that took Lurtz' head right off his shoulders. The body slumped to the ground and the head flew into the air… and into the Medullia's jaws… and down its throat.

Aragorn blinked and Mervamon shuddered as she withdrew the Medullia. "Ugh," she muttered. "That… is going to give me indigestion in the morning."

The Medullia hissed in agreement.

Aragorn stood there frozen for a second, wondering just what this mysterious woman was. But then a grunt of pain from Boromir jolted him back to what was really important and he dashed over to the fallen warrior and knelt in front of him, watching as Cutemon held his hands over the arrow wound on his chest.

"Aragorn," Boromir gasped out, choking as he did so. "The Hobbits. They took the Hobbits. Merry and Pippin. I couldn't stop them."

Aragorn felt a dull thud in his chest at these words, but for the moment he put them aside and said, "Hold still, Boromir. Everything will be fine."

"No," Boromir gasped. "Frodo! What happened to Frodo? Have you seen him?"

Aragorn paused warily, well aware of the face that they were in the presence of two complete strangers who, as far as they knew, knew nothing about the Ring, making Frodo a very sensitive topic. Trying not to give much away, he merely said, "I let him go."

Boromir seemed to attempt a wry smile but couldn't get his face to stop juddering. "Then you are a better man than I, Aragorn. I… I tried to… take…"

"Yes," Aragorn interrupted. "I… I gathered that much from what he told me. But now Frodo has gone and… it is no longer where we can reach it."

"I beg of you," Boromir gasped. "To forgive me. I… I couldn't…"

"Boromir," Aragorn pressed heavily. "We shall… discuss this later."

"Please just hold still, kyu," Cutemon murmured. "This one is a difficult one, kyu."

Aragorn and Boromir both looked down and watched in amazement as the flesh around the small but serious wound on his chest ever so slowly began to knit itself back together.

"You're lucky, kyu," Cutemon observed. "If that arrow had been an inch lower it would have pierced you in the heart, kyu. But it still managed to get you in the lung so this is delicate."

"Can you heal it, Cutemon?" Mervamon asked.

"Give me a moment, kyu," Cutemon gritted his teeth and cried, **"IMMEDIATE HEALING!"**

The small sphere of green light in Cutemon's hands turned into a beam which lanced into Boromir and spread across his whole body, permeating through him and illuminating the Gondorian in a glow like he had been dumped in a vat of radioactive waste. Not that he knew what radioactive was, but still he was astounded as he saw both of his remaining wounds begin to close. The intense pain in his chest began to recede and he was beginning to find it easier to breathe.

The creature was _repairing_ his lungs right before their very eyes!

Aragorn was astounded. He had seen the healing magic of Elves before and even knew a lot of their techniques himself, but never before had he seen anything healed as quickly and efficiently as this. This was some sort of miracle and, over the course of the next twenty seconds, the pain receded until, eventually, it was as if Boromir had not been shot at all.

Boromir breathed slowly for several seconds, allowing his lungs to fill up and expel air almost as if he was testing them both. Everything… had healed. Just like that. The ribs that the arrows had broken had fixed themselves, the organs that had been pierced were in working order. Boromir was… fine. He was alive. He had been shot with three arrows and now he was… just fine.

Cutemon collapsed onto his backside and his ears dropped. "Ugh, kyu. That one took a lot out of me."

"You did well, Cutemon," Mervamon smiled, reaching across Boromir to scoop up the small pink bunny creature and hold him close. "You did very well indeed."

Aragorn and Boromir merely glanced at one another for several moments before the latter gently tried to stand up. He stumbled immediately and Aragorn quickly grabbed him and steadied him, laying him back down on the ground again.

"You need to rest, kyu," Cutemon murmured. "I can mend the physical wounds but you still need to regain your strength, kyu. And you lost quite a lot of blood and I can't replace that."

"Indeed," Aragorn murmured softly. "But… nevertheless, this is remarkable. Do you feel any pain, Boromir?"

"No," the Gondorian shook his head. "I do still feel drained but… I am whole." He glanced across at Cutemon. "I… believe I owe you a debt, small one."

"My name is not small one, kyu," Cutemon smiled. "I am Cutemon. And this is my friend Mervamon."

"We probably could have met under better circumstances," Mervamon chuckled.

"Yes," Boromir nodded. "But still… I _do_ definitely owe you a debt… Cutemon. But, if I may be so bold… what _are_ you?"

Mervamon and Cutemon glanced at one another. And then the former said, "Ever heard of a Digimon?"

"A… no, I have never heard of such a thing," Aragorn frowned. "Is that what you are, Cutemon?"

"Yes," Mervamon answered for him. "But it's what I am too. We are both Digimon."

"But you are both so different," Aragorn's frown only deepened. "What exactly is a Digimon?"

"Digimon can take on a near infinite number of shapes and sizes and bodily structures," Mervamon replied. "We are beings that are composed of data like you might find in a computer, but we still live and breathe just as you organic humans do."

Mervamon was not sure what kind of response she was expecting but both Aragorn and Boromir had nothing but blank expressions on their faces. They stared at Mervamon and Cutemon without comprehension for several moments and then Aragorn murmured, "I am afraid I did not understand many of those words."

"Which ones?" Mervamon frowned, suspicion at something she was already guessing at growing within her.

"What is data?" asked Boromir. "And what is a computer? And what does organic mean?"

"A computer?" Cutemon asked. "Surely you know what that is, kyu. It's like one of those things that you can log onto a sort through all these files and things like that kyu. And I heard that you can look at this thing called the internet, kyu, which helps you find loads more files and it's all run on with digital power. That thing, kyu?"

Aragorn and Boromir both looked completely bewildered. Mervamon's frown deepened. "You really haven't heard of any of that, have you?" she asked.

"I know that I certainly have not," said a voice as Legolas emerged through the trees, his sharp Elf hearing having heard most of the conversation. Gimli was following him closely behind, hefting his bloodstained axe over his shoulder as the four Fellowship members continued to stare at the Digimon.

"But this is the human world, isn't it?" Cutemon protested. "I thought everyone in the human world had…"

"Cutemon," Mervamon interrupted. "I do not believe that this is the human world. At least not the one we know. You are very right – people in the human world would know what a computer is and what data is. The Digital power they were harnessing was the very thing that split our world apart in the first place. But I do not think that this is that world, and if it is we must be in a very remote part of it for people as intelligent as these four to not know what we are talking about."

Cutemon's eyes widened. "Then… does that mean…?"

"I think it does," Mervamon nodded. "We're not in the human world at all."

"But they're humans!" Cutemon cried.

"No we are not," Aragorn shook his head. "You must have confused us with some other species, for I have never heard of humans either. Legolas here is an Elf, Master Gimli is a Dwarf and Boromir and I are Men."

"Yes, we know you're men, kyu," Cutemon pointed out. "But you're humans too."

"No, we are definitely Men," Boromir shook his head, still breathing heavily. "I have been a Man all my life."

"But…" Cutemon was now whimpering in confusion.

"What about the females?" Mervamon asked abruptly. "If you are Men, that what do you call your women?"

"They are women," Aragorn nodded. "But they are part of the race of Men."

Mervamon glared. "That sounds very sexist to me. But I believe I understand the problem. You may call yourselves Men in this world, but where we come from, we call you… as in both the men and women of your race, humans. Maybe you should start doing the same thing."

Aragorn and Boromir glanced at one another. "That makes sense, I suppose," Boromir murmured. "It is possible for a race to have many names. Who's to say that we really aren't humans to these… Digimon?"

Aragorn nodded. "And what of Elves and Dwarves? What do you call them?"

"We don't," Mervamon grimaced. "I have never heard of Elves or Dwarves before."

"You have not?" Gimli cried. "That is outrageous and ridiculous. Never heard of Elves and Dwarves indeed."

"No, we really haven't, kyu," Cutemon shook his head. "We don't even come from this universe."

_That_ got the attention of the four beings. They stared at Cutemon in complete bewilderment before Legolas voice what they were all thinking, "And where _do_ you come from then?"

"The Digital World," Mervamon replied. "All Digimon come from that place and as far as I know there are no Elves or Dwarves in it. There are no humans either, but they live in their own universe right next to ours. But not this one. As far as I can tell this is a completely new universe for us."

"But if you are not from this universe then how did you get here?" Legolas questioned.

"I do not know," Mervamon sighed. "It might sound odd, but something strange happened in our universe last night and… a special object that can help to control our world started to act up and… well, suddenly we found ourselves here in this forest, separated from our companions and without a clue where we are."

"We actually landed in a river first, kyu," Cutemon shuddered. "I nearly drowned."

"Yes," Mervamon nodded. "We wandered through the forest and followed the course of the river to try and find someone to help and that's when we spotted your boats in the distance. You were the first people we had found so we followed you and tried to catch up, hoping that you might be able to give us some answers, but then when we reached your camp we found it was empty and heard the sounds of fighting nearby so we rushed to help and… well, here we are."

"You followed us?" Legolas frowned. "So it must have been you I caught a glimpse of on the high bank. I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me."

"Probably," Mervamon shrugged. "Sorry that we trailed after you but we really needed some answers."

Boromir was still lying against the roots of the trees but now he gripped his sword and dug its point into the turf using it to lever himself upwards and clamber slowly and with considerable effort to his feet. He wobbled slightly and tried to make sure he kept his balance by using his sword like a staff but he was able to stand tall. He set his jaw and said, "Well, I for one believe that you have no reason to be sorry. I am still unsure whether or not your tall tales and strange words can be believed but if you had not come when you did then I would most likely be dead now. I owe the both of you my life, and I mean that seriously, upon my Gondorian honour."

He held out his hand and, after a second, Mervamon planted her sword in the ground and grasped it firmly to shake it. "Thank you," she said. "I do not know what Gondorian means but I thank you all the same."

"Me too, kyu," Cutemon nodded.

"And allow me to be the one to answer your question," Boromir stated. "This world is called Eä and this land in which you stand is known as Middle Earth. If what you claim is true and you are not from this realm, then may I be the first to welcome you here. I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Prince of Gondor."

"A prince, huh?" Mervamon smirked. "I have never met a prince before, but I am good friends with a Princess."

"If that is the case then today you meet two princes for the first time," Legolas nodded. "I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and Prince of Mirkwood."

"It is our honour," Mervamon smiled and bowed her head to the both of them, though she still stood taller than any of them.

Gimli still looked suspicious. "I find it very hard to believe these wild tales of yours. All this talk of other universes sounds quite ludicrous to me. However, if we are introducing ourselves then I am Gimli, son of Glóin."

"A pleasure to meet you too," Mervamon through a warm smile his way. Gimli stared at her for a few moments and then looked away and started muttering to himself. Mervamon caught a few snatches of things like, "never heard of Dwarves" and "quite a powerful fighter." She chuckled.

"And I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the final member of the Fellowship nodded. "Ranger of the North." The other members of the Fellowship noticed he did not mention his true lineage, but let it slide, knowing that Aragorn did not like talking about it if he did not have to.

"Good to meet all of you," Mervamon nodded. "It sounds like we have a lot to discuss."

"And no time to discuss it in," Aragorn suddenly pointed out. "Come everyone, we cannot linger. Today's events are still in motion and we must hurry."

* * *

Frodo Baggins was standing on the stony shore of the lake and staring out across the water. The three boats were still lying across the edge of the bank, one half in and half out of the lake and he could see his destination on the far side. He was having one final moment of jittering doubt before he set off. He knew that once he touched foot down on that opposite bank then that would be it. He would well and truly be on his own and the quest for Mordor to destroy the Ring would be his and his alone.

Nestled in his palm was the Ring, hooked up to its chain once again and sitting there as innocently as any normal trinket but Frodo could practically feel the evil boiling within it. He had been the bearer of the Ring for so long now as the evil of Middle Earth grew it was as if the Ring was beginning to brand itself into his memory.

Once again the question nagged at him? Should he stay with the others who might be able to protect him, or should he go on alone and risk the death and betrayal of each of them just as Boromir had tried to take the Ring as well? The prospect of setting out alone still terrified him to his very bones and now he was remembering Gandalf's death in Moria, plunging into infinite after being jerked off the Bridge of Khazad-dûm by the fiery whip of the Balrog.

That had happened because Gandalf was trying to protect him. He did not want any of the others to suffer a similar fate.

With Gandalf in his mind, he looked up again, a solitary tear falling down his cheek and streak of water already down the other side of his face, and he could hear one of the last things that he had spoken to the Wizard echoing out of the recesses of his memory and to the fore of his mind, which applied in this situation just as much as it had then:-

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened."

That had been the last sentence that he had spoken directly to Gandalf apart from to scream his name when he had been face to face with the Balrog. And the Gandalf's reply had, similarly, been one of the last things he had said to Frodo:-

"So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide. All you have decide is what to do with the time that is given to you."

And as Gandalf's soothing words in their kind and gentle tone reverberated through his mind, he knew that now was the time to make the decision and, in reality, he had already made it. He had to stop wasting time. He had no idea what was going on back in that forest but it would not be long before the rest of the Fellowship returned if they had won. And if they had lost then who knew if the Uruk-Hai were closing in on him now. He had to leave now.

And so his fingers closed around the Ring and he stuffed it in his breast-pocket, ignoring the tears still slowly running down his face and stepping across the stony bank with his thick, hairy bare feet and grabbed the boat already half in the lake and heaved it forwards and into the water, bounding into it as he did so and almost effortlessly pushing the large boat out onto the lake – it was Elvish after all. He picked up the oar with the leaf-like paddle and plunged it into the water and began to steer the boat out and towards the far bank.

And then, before he had got ten metres out, the sound he had least been wanting to hear reached his sharp ears. It was Sam. Somehow the faithful Hobbit had managed to avoid all the Uruks and all the fighting in general in his mad search for Frodo and now he was dashing out of the trees and onto the bank and Frodo could picture the look of horror and distress on his face as he cried, "Frodo! No!"

Sam ran right down the bank until his feet crashed into the water but Frodo's boat was already too far out for him to reach and he pulled to a stop with a desperate yell of "Frodo! Mister Frodo!"

"No, Sam," Frodo said over his shoulder without turning to look, just loud enough for Sam to hear. Frodo knew that looking back at him now would only make things worse and he could not bear to see the look on Sam's face. So he just kept rowing.

And then a splashing sound quickly changed that thought and Frodo looked back in alarm, to see Sam had started wading out into the river and after him. He was almost up to his waist already and such was his determination to get to Frodo and stay with his best friend that he seemed to have completely forgotten that there were two other boats on the shore which he could use himself.

"Go back Sam!" Frodo cried, but Sam ignored him and continued to wade out into the river forcefully and with purpose written across his face. "I'm going to Mordor alone."

"Of course you are," Sam shouted, continuing to wade deeper. "And I'm coming with you!" He was already up to his chest now and was getting deeper.

Frodo felt panic rising in his chest. "You can't swim!" he yelled back – he knew this fact full well having known Sam for most of his life. And as he watched, Sam waded completely out of his depth and started to try and pull himself through the water with his arms, but already he was having difficulty. There was very little need for the Hobbits of Hobbiton to learn how to swim and Sam's heavy cloak and gear was already weighing him down.

"Sam!" Frodo shouted, watching in horror as his best friend spluttered and floundered in the lake and desperately tried to pull himself along, but only succeeded in going forwards a few feet and sinking deeper in the process. After a few agonising seconds, his head went under and despite his lack of progress, the lake got very deep very quickly.

"Sam!" Frodo hollered in panic, dropping the oar and leaning over the side, trying to see the sunken Hobbit.

Under the waves, Sam was struggling and thrashing with his arms to try and get himself back to the surface kicking his legs feebly as his Elven Cloak billowed upwards in the water above him, refusing to sink as fast as the rest of him. Having inhaled a lungful of water on entry, Sam found himself with very little oxygen to breath in his lungs and as he struggled harder and harder to gain some height and get to the surface he just couldn't do it. He was losing energy fast and bubbles were coming out of his mouth from time to time as he fought the urge to try and inhale and merely suck in more water.

Sam had no idea how long he was down there for, but after a mere twenty seconds and he was already nearly at a standstill. The cloak sank around him and he began to lose consciousness as his brain began to stop function properly due to the sudden lack of oxygen. He could already feel his eyes slowly beginning to close, the light of the Sun flickering through the water above him and filtering into his eyes. He was, in reality, still not that far from the surface. He just couldn't reach it.

One hand was held upwards feebly trying vainly to reach the air.

And then another hand plunged into the water from above and seized Sam by the wrist. After a second, Sam's brain kicked into gear and he grabbed the wrist back and Frodo yanked upwards and hauled Sam to the surface again. Sam sputtered and coughed almost immediately and spat out water to replace it with the life-giving air as Frodo, leaning towards the other side of the boat to try and balance the weight, heaved Sam onto the side and then grabbed his other arm, bringing the sopping wet Hobbit tumbling into the boat.

Sam quickly fought off his sudden near-death experience and, still gasping for breath and choking, he pushed himself upwards and knelt in front of Frodo with their eyes level. "I made a promise Mister Frodo. A promise: 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee.'" He sputtered out, reiterating what Gandalf had told him on the day the two Hobbits had set out from their homes to begin this very quest. And then he reiterated what he had promised to Frodo when he told him what Gandalf had said for the first time:-

"And I don't mean to. I don't mean to."

"Oh Sam," Frodo almost whimpered and, ignoring the fact that Sam was wet through, he pulled the younger Hobbit into a hug which Sam returned. Sam was still choking slightly, but the two Hobbits held one another close. And in that moment, Frodo knew absolutely that he couldn't just send Sam back to the other bank. And he could not just leave him behind. Yes, having Sam as a companion would put him in danger, but Frodo couldn't stand to break his faithful companion's heart.

Not now and not ever. Sam would stay with him until the quest ended.

Nevertheless, they still had to leave before the rest of the Fellowship arrived, so Frodo pulled out of the hug and said, "Come on." Sam nodded and the two of them reached for an oar each and quickly settled into place in the boat, steering their way to the far side. They were heading right towards danger and both of them knew it, but they also knew that whatever hardships they would face in the future they would face it with the other by their side.

* * *

It was not until the two Hobbits had reached the opposite bank and had clambered out of the boat, which had thankfully contained all of Sam's gear like his cooking equipment just as it had contained Frodo's things, the rest of the Fellowship arrived back at their campsite. Mervamon and Cutemon were still with them and Legolas immediately spotted the two Hobbits stepping into the forest on the other side.

"Look!" he cried, pointing as he did so. "Frodo and Sam are on the eastern shore! They have left without us!"

The Elf hurried towards one of the boats, but Aragorn raised a hand and said, "No, Legolas. Stay yourself. Frodo's fate is no longer up to us."

"Aragorn," Legolas almost gaped, and it was hard to make Legolas gape for any reason. "Are you saying that we do not follow them?"

"Yes," Aragorn said simply. "From now on, the quest belongs to Frodo and Sam alone."

Gimli looked similarly stunned. "You would let those two Halflings go it alone into the heart of…"

"Enough, Gimli," Aragorn cut across him, glancing at Mervamon and Cutemon who were still not privy to what was going on. "Let the matter rest."

Boromir's eyes were locked on Frodo's retreating back and, for a brief moment, he felt a sudden urge to jump in the nearest boat and chase after him, but before the idea could take root his jerked his eyes away from the Hobbits and stared down at the ground, gasping for breath. The ex-wounded but still weakened man was leaning on Mervamon for support, but he now pushed himself away and stood upright by himself.

"I agree with Aragorn," he nodded firmly, trying to purge himself of the last of the influence the Ring had had on him. "Frodo has his reasons and… from what I have seen… what I have done… they are good reasons. We must let them be now."

Aragorn turned to Boromir and allowed a small smile to grace his face, knowing that that statement was a triumph for Boromir considering what had happened earlier. The Gondorian man wobbled towards his shield, which would have been of immense help in the previous battle if he had remembered to bring it and slung it across his back.

"I…" he murmured. "I failed you all. I failed Frodo. I failed Gandalf. I failed Merry and Pippin. I… I failed myself."

Legolas and Gimli looked bemused but Aragorn gave Boromir a comforting look and said, "You are not the first to be taken in under its influence, Boromir. Isildur did before you."

"And yet you succeeded," Boromir sighed. "You are a far better Man than I could ever be, Aragorn."

"No, Boromir," Aragorn shook his head. "I am no greater than you. You fought against overwhelming odds and were it not for one orc with his bow and arrow I believe you would have triumphed."

"And yet I did not," Boromir sighed. "It is a miracle that I am still alive. Everything I have ever accused of you, Aragorn, I take it back now. You will make a great King and I will follow you to the ends of Middle Earth and beyond."

"Excuse me?" Mervamon blinked. She could tell they were talking about something which they were trying to keep secret from her and she knew she had no business asking what it was so she didn't, but Boromir's last sentence caught her attention. "King? You are a King?"

Aragorn looked uncomfortable and said nothing, but Legolas nodded and said, "Not yet. But he is the rightful King of the country of Gondor by blood."

"Oh that's cool, kyu!" Cutemon grinned.

"This your first time meeting a King, I take it?" Gimli snorted.

"Actually no," Cutemon grinned. "One of my best friends is a King – King Shoutmon of the Digital World."

That answer took Gimli off guard and he fell into silence.

"I do not much like to speak of my birthright," Aragorn said a little stonily, "and I would appreciate it if we let the matter rest. I thank you for your words and your sentiment, Boromir."

Boromir barely seemed to hear him for several moments. "What are we supposed to do now? Sauron's power is great. Too great. The world of my people and our race will fall into darkness under his control. He will lay waste to everything before him, and we will all succumb to the darkness sooner or later… as I did." He shuddered and grasped his head. "What are we meant to do now that the quest no longer belongs to us?"

Aragorn grimaced. "No, Boromir. We shall oppose Sauron with every ounce of strength we can muster. We will make sure of that. I promise you. And thanks to the actions of these brave strangers, you are still around to carry on Gondor's legacy and now, freed from the burden of the quest, we can begin our own campaign. You will be able to do what you wished to do most and defend the White City. And we shall be by your side as you do so."

Boromir looked heartened, if only partially. "Perhaps the Lady Galadriel was right," he murmured. "Perhaps there may be hope after all. Especially with Gondor's true King back at the front lines at long lines."

Aragorn did not make any comment on that for several seconds, but then Gimli stepped forward and said, "And what of the two other Hobbits in our company? Last we knew they were both still alive. Our efforts on this quest appear to have been in vain, but what are we supposed to do about them?"

"I would have thought the answer is simple," Aragorn said firmly. "We go after them. Frodo might not be under our care any longer but our Fellowship has not yet fallen and until I see their dead bodies I will not give up hope that it has. We must remain strong and go after them. We will not abandon them, no matter what."

"A noble sentiment," Mervamon nodded approvingly. She stepped forwards and said, "If I may be so bold, may Cutemon and I join you on your hunt for your lost companions?"

There was several moments of silence. All four remaining members of the Fellowship were staring at the two Digimon with varying degrees of suspicion. Aragorn eventually cleared his throat and said, "We thank you for the offer Mervamon but… you must understand that we know very little about you. None of us have ever seen anything like you in our world and you claim that you are not from it at all. But we only have your word to go on it."

Mervamon scowled. "You are saying that you do not trust us?"

"It is difficult to determine," Aragorn admitted. "If you are truly creatures of good then I apologise for this… but these are dark times. The darkest of times in over two-thousand years. Evil is abroad in this land and those Uruk-Hai we fought back there were mild in comparison to some of the powers of evil that exist, serving under the Dark Lord Sauron. How are we to know that you are what you claim to be at all?"

Mervamon's scowl remained in place but she said, "Fair point. But we do not even know who this Sauron you've been mentioning even _is_. We have heard of him no more than we've heard of Gondor or these other places and people you keep mentioning."

"I understand that but again I can only take you at face value," Aragorn nodded. "And the spies of the enemy can come in many guises."

"You think we could be spies, kyu?" Cutemon looked so hurt by the accusation that Aragorn wanted to take it back almost immediately, but he refrained from doing so.

"With the black magic in this world, many things are possible," he said. "Tell me, why do you want to come with us?"

"As we said, we are not from around here," Mervamon replied. "Neither of us have the foggiest idea where we are, or which direction to go in to reach anything else. You are the first beings we saw since we arrived here and I feel it would be better for the both of us if we were to stick with people who are more likely to know where they are going and what they are doing than simply wandering aimlessly in this forest until we finally stumble upon something."

"Yeah and there's more, kyu," Cutemon added. "There's all our friends as well, kyu."

"Friends?" Legolas frowned. "There are more of you here?"

"We believe so," Mervamon nodded. "When the… event… that caused us to fall into this Middle Earth occurred, most of our friends in the court of King Shoutmon were present. I have little reason to believe that Cutemon and I are the only ones who were transported here. I have a feeling… that this world received quite a few new arrivals yesterday. Unfortunately, we have no idea where they are either. Perhaps if we travel with you we will discover some sign or hear some news about them which may help us to find them again."

"And they are all like you, are they?" Gimli asked gruffly.

"They are all Digimon, yes," Mervamon chuckled. "But most of them… are very much not like us. Digimon can come in many, _many_ shapes, after all."

"I… see…" Aragorn murmured.

"But many of us are very powerful," Mervamon went on. "And while I am not in possession of all the facts, its plain to see that there is some form of evil trying to take over your world, correct? Well, perhaps we could be of some help."

"Why would you help us so suddenly?" Boromir asked. "If what you say is true then you know as little about us as we do you. Why do _you_ trust us?"

"Because we help out those who need it," Mervamon said. "It's what we do. It's what King Shoutmon and his friends stand for. It doesn't matter who they are – as long as they're good guys if they need help then we will do all we can to give it to them."

Aragorn stared at them for a couple of moments and then he said, "Would you allow us to discuss this amongst ourselves for a moment?"

"Of course," nodded Mervamon and stepped away. The four Fellowship members grouped together and Legolas kept a close eye on the two Digimon just in case they tried something.

"We don't know if any of what those two have just told us is true," Gimli pointed out gruffly. "How can trust them? They appeared right out of nowhere at right about the same time that the Uruk-Hai did. It smells a little funny to me."

"Great forces are at work here," Legolas nodded. "Forces far greater than us. I do know that much. The only question is what do we do next?"

"Well, I for one think that we _can_ trust them," Boromir said quietly. "I see no reason why a minion of Sauron or any other servant of evil would go to such lengths to aid us. I was on the brink of death and yet the two of them worked together to restore me back to health. They pulled out the arrows and healed my wounds right before my eyes. I cannot fathom how they, especially the small one, could possibly be evil."

"The servants of the enemy do often look fair," Aragorn mused. "That much is true. And yet they also feel foul. I am torn. I do believe that what Boromir says is true – for a creature of evil to heal a wounded man even to get into the graces of those who are good does not sound… right."

"Servants of Sauron can be cunning," Gimli pointed out. "It would be the last thing that we expected, wouldn't it?"

"Why are you so keen not to trust them, Master Dwarf?" Legolas asked curiously.

"I am not!" Gimli snorted. "I merely believe we should consider all the facts. I could also point out that Mervamon did kill an orc that was about to drop on me. But if they're going to be coming with us then we must be _sure_."

"That is true," Boromir nodded quietly. "But I'll stand by what I said before. I think that we can trust them. They certainly do not feel foul, either of them."

"I thought the same," Aragorn agreed. "I have seen many minions of Sauron and none of them have felt like those two. It is strange. Legolas, Gimli, what would you decide to do?"

"I have no idea," Gimli sighed. "Their story sounds absolutely ridiculous to me and yet there's a small part of me that… wants to believe them. And not in that deceptive dark way of fell magicians either. That Mervamon is very fair indeed, even if she does have fangs and a giant snake for an arm. What about you, Master Elf?"

Legolas shut his eyes for several moments and a slight breeze blew back his long blond hair. And then he said, "I believe them."

"And why would that be?" asked Aragorn.

"Do you not remember what I told you, Aragorn?" Legolas asked. "In this very place earlier today? Last night I felt an incredibly strange disturbance in the fabric of reality and suddenly here are two strange creatures we have never heard tell of before claiming that they woke up to find themselves here this very morning. The disturbance did feel close and it felt large. It does fit together in some obscure way."

Aragorn nodded quietly, digesting this. He did indeed remember Legolas telling him something like that, and of all of them he was inclined to trust Legolas' instincts the most.

"Besides," Legolas added with a smile. "That Cutemon's just too cute to be a servant of evil."

Aragorn actually laughed out loud at this, and that made up his mind for him. He turned back to the two Digimon and said, "Very well then. I am not usually inclined to accepting the company of strangers I meet in the wilds but if you wish, you may come with us. We could use your talents again in the future, I am sure, if what you say is true and you would be willing to help."

"Of course it's true," Mervamon said firmly.

"We are indeed a long way from most forms of habitation," Aragorn nodded. "Somebody could get lost in these forests for weeks if they did not know where they are going. You can come with us. But your friends, what do they look like?"

"Oh, I could be here all day describing what they look like to you," Mervamon chuckled.

"There is a lot of them, kyu," Cutemon nodded earnestly.

"Very well," Aragorn supplied. "We can discuss things more on the run, for we must now make haste. This altercation will have allowed those Uruk-Hai to gain a valuable lead on us and we must hurry if we are to catch up with them."

"Got it," Mervamon smirked, opening her palm and causing her enormous sword to vanish into mid-air. Aragorn was momentarily startled but then he put it aside and said," And what of you, Boromir? Will you come with us, or will you now return to your city to try and defend it?"

Boromir hesitated and looked off South for a moment, where he knew his city of Minas Tirith to be but eventually he looked back and said, "I said I would follow you and I meant it. Right now the Halflings are in more immediate danger than Gondor. And I would not break up this Fellowship any more than it has been broken."

"Can you run, Boromir?" Legolas asked.

"I will manage," the stubborn pride of the Gondorian appeared to be returning.

"Hooray, kyu!" Cutemon cheered. "We're going to be alright then, kyu."

"The same cannot be said for those Uruk things," Mervamon nodded with a smirk. "Let's get going then."

Aragorn nodded and then gave Legolas a significant look. They still did not _completely _trust the Digimon and Legolas caught Aragorn's meaning quickly. Then Aragorn turned back around and said, "Then we shall leave all that we can spare here – we cannot be weighed down. Now… let's hunt some orc!" And he turned and pelted off into the forest without another word. Gimli let off a roar of approval and dashed after him. Boromir pulled his horn, which he had just noticed had been cloven in two at some point during his battle and he had not realised it, off his belt and threw it to the ground before taking in a deep breath and summoning his strength to run after the Dwarf and the King, Mervamon instantly falling in step behind him.

Legolas brought up the rear, bow in hand just in case Mervamon decided to try anything, but despite their new arrival and the slight suspicion that remained there was also a sense of comradeship in the air that almost drowned it out. For better or for worse, Legolas knew, the fate of Middle Earth was changing.

* * *

Well, what do you know? The Digimon have already made a whacking great big change and that is the survival of Boromir. Will he survive through the rest of the story? Only time will tell on that score, but things are beginning to be set in motion already. And to think, the events of the first of the three films has now been concluded within the first nine chapters! Hehe.

The reason for this was that I felt the adventures of most of the Fellowship should be kept their own, and things like the death and revival of Gandalf had to remain the same and something told me that having a Digimon present when Gandalf faced the Balrog would have made a very big difference to the outcome of that battle. And now, the rest of the story will cover the events of the other two films… in much greater detail! Hope you all enjoy the ride.

And see you soon.

* * *

Next time…

The first instalment of the chapters that focus solely on the events around Frodo and Sam begin now. As they attempt to traverse their way through Emyn Muil, they become aware that they have a tagalong close behind them. But neither of them are prepared for the other strange creature they are about to run into.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 10 : Need a Heavy Speaker**


	10. Need a Heavy Speaker

Once again, deeply sorry for the late update with this chapter but things are still pretty much jampacked full for me. Anyway, I won't bore you with a long explanation of why this chapter is so late this time, but needless to say it is here now and that's what matters. Hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless. I can only hope that writing time picks up again in the not too distant future but I make no promises I'm afraid.

**Alliance Empire** – I believe that I wrote my last message in the wrong tone - I was not intending to be snippy. There has been ore than one instance in the past where someone has misinterpreted the tone I was trying to set so I should probably work on that. Anyway, I have heard that any fic with a swearword in their summary has been deleted but that's about all.

**Anonymous** - The thing you have to remember about this story is that it is a fanfiction, so you should expect events to play out quite differently from the movies. I've added over thirty powerful creatures to Middle Earth - things are NOT going to be exactly the same as they were in the films. As it happens, Pippin will still become a member of the Royal Guard, but there will be more changes than just the survival of Boromir, mark my words.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 10:- Need a Heavy Speaker**

* * *

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Normally Ballistamon could tune out the plodding sound that his own wide and oblong feet made whenever he took a step forwards. He knew that he was quite a heavy Digimon for his size and because of that he was certainly not what you would call light of foot. But he had grown so used to the sound of his footsteps that he barely noticed them whenever he moved anywhere.

Except for now.

Now, it was beginning to get rather tedious. Not because it was an annoying sound per se, but mostly because it was about the only sound that there _was_ in this environment and it was being practically magnified by the huge walls of rock that were almost always on either side of him. He had been walking around these seemingly unending labyrinth of passageways and rocks for hours and hours now and it seemed that each direction he took only seemed to yield more maze.

Ballistamon was a machine-type Digimon and that meant that he had a pretty good sense of direction. He was sure that he was _not_ walking in circles. He was pretty sure that he had been travelling in a straight line, or at least as much of a straight line as you could get in these winding crevices. Now, he was walking up the side of an enormous slope and out into a more relatively open area, trying to gain some altitude so that he could have a look around and find out where he was. And his own heavy footfalls were now seriously beginning to get on his nerves. And he was a Digimon with _considerable_ patience.

The three red Monitamon were still following on behind their larger companion. They had partially scaled the rock face and were hurrying along it as best they could across the ledge, using their ninja skills to leap across gaps that seemed to be much too large for a being of their size and stature.

It was not easy for them. Monitamon prided themselves on being ninja Digimon but the fact remained that their body design was not… the _best_ design for a ninja. The large television set that they had for a head was, for one thing, no help at all in balance and there were several moments where one of the Monitamon would stumble and almost fall off and have to be caught by his companions before something happened.

Fortunately they had been without nasty fall so far.

The three Monitamon were, it had to be said, significantly better than they had been in the days of the war against the Bagra Army. They had had an additional five years to practice, after all. But unfortunately, when it came to other Monitamon, they were still often very much out of their league.

But they did their best just the same.

None of them said anything. They just followed Ballistamon in silence, trying to locate a way out of this maze of boulders just as he was and not particularly succeeding.

As Ballistamon scaled up the hill, the three Monitamon bounded up ahead to gain some more altitude, leaping off the boulders and onto the scree slope as they climbed higher up. One of them tripped on a large rock and went rolling several times but managed to pick himself upwards quickly and press on without much of a pause.

Behind them, Ballistamon's feet slipped on the loose slope and he slid backwards several feet, only to throw his thick hands outwards and buried his metallic fingers underneath the pebbles and grit, anchoring him in place for a moment, before he hauled himself back upright and continued on.

"We could do with Sparrowmon right now," he murmured to himself. And once again he wondered where the heck Sparrowmon was. Or any of the others for that matter. It was like every one of their friends had vanished of the face of the Digital World. And Ballistamon, like many of the other members of Xros Heart, was also beginning to suspect that perhaps they, along with himself, actually had. And that this was _not_ the Digital World. He had yet to find any concrete proof of that, given that he had not seen _any_ form of life since he'd got here beside the Monitamon. But he was pretty sure that was the case.

The Monitamon gained the summit and looked out around them with their eyeless screens. "Oh no," muttered D-Monitamon-2. "We're not even _close_ to finding a way out of this place."

"Is there no _end_ to it?" D-Monitamon-1 agreed as all three of them looked around and saw pretty much nothing but rock, rock and more rock, with a side order of boulders and an extra helping of cliff no matter which direction they turned their gaze.

"There must be an end to it somewhere," protested D-Monitamon-3. "There _must _be. Where are all the cities and the villages and the lakes and stuff like that? There can't _just_ be rocks here."

"Well wherever they are," D-Monitamon-1 shrugged. "They're not anywhere close by and that's for sure."

Ballistamon gained the top with them. "See anything?" he asked in his grating voice as he stood as tall as his cube-like body could, his large blue horn raising into the air like a lightning-rod.

"Nope," D-Monitamon-3 shook his headset. "Just more and more labyrinth."

"This is certainly a big place then," Ballistamon muttered. "I don't know of any place like it in the Digital World. Though I haven't travelled through as much of it as some of the others. Speaking of the others, any sign of them?"

"No," all three Monitamon chorused at the same time.

Ballistamon sighed. Somehow. "Well, there's not much that we can do except keep walking then. In the same direction. If we go in a straight line then we'll have to come out somewhere. Eventually."

"I hope that its soon," D-Monitamon-2 grumbled. "My feet are killing me and we've been walking around for hours."

"Have you guys tried contacting the other Monitamon?" Ballistamon asked.

"Yeah," nodded D-Monitamon-3. "They're out of range. We can't connect with them."

"I'm beginning to wish that we had kept using the wristers," Ballistamon muttered. The little devices had come in handy in the fight against Bagramon but none of the members of Xros Heart had been using them recently because for the most part they were all together and rarely separated. When someone was going off on a solo mission, Shoutmon would instruct them to take either a wrister or one of the Monitamon with them depending on how far they were going, but there hadn't been any solo missions for a while.

Now, all the wristers were storied in Ballistamon's chest compartment. He had not exactly had the opportunity to distribute them before they had been whisked away. And it would have been much more useful to them if he had.

But dwelling on what would have been helpful if the circumstances had been different was not going to get them anywhere and Ballistamon took a couple of paces forwards to continue along his current trajectory and back into the maze…

…But then there was a very distant but very distinct rumbling noise which caused him to halt in his tracks. He half expected the hillside to start shaking, but it didn't. The three Monitamon noticed it too and they each threw out their arms, expecting the same reaction, as it certainly sounded like some earthquake-like event or at least a very deep rumble of thunder. But there was nothing.

"What was that?" D-Monitamon-3 asked nervously, looking around them.

"I dunno, but I don't like it here," D-Monitamon-2 added. "I really want to get out of these rocks. I much prefer trees."

"Me too," D-Monitamon-1 nodded. He then looked around behind them and pointed. "Look! Look! It must have been that!"

Ballistamon and the other two Monitamon turned around. In the distance behind them they could see what appeared to be some kind of mountain range beyond the rocks, although looking at them more closely they could see that these mountains were darker, so dark they were almost black as opposed to the pale grey of the rocks of the labyrinth. And, just visible over the peaks of black were flashes of deep, bright red and orange, rising briefly over the tops and then falling back down to the ground. Like…

"Lava," Ballistamon muttered. "Just like in the Magma Zone back in old times. It must be a volcano."

"A volcano?" D-Monitamon-1 repeated nervously. "That must be one heck of a volcano if we can hear is eruptions from this distance away."

"N-gah," Ballistamon agreed with a nod of his head.

"Weren't there other Digimon in the Magma Zone?" D-Monitamon-3 asked. "Maybe we should go that way instead."

But the more the four of them looked at the dark mountains which were probably covered in ash from the volcano, the deeper their feeling of foreboding became.

It was very difficult to send a shiver down Ballistamon's spine considering he had not actually _got_ a spine, but somehow those dark mountains and whatever lay beyond them managed to do it.

"N-gah," he shook his head again. "I think that we should keep going the way we have been going. Besides, it seems to get a little more open in this direction. Maybe we can find a way out."

"Yes… right," the Monitamon all mumbled amongst themselves, also suppressing shudders at the horrible feeling that had suddenly coursed through their small frames at the sight of those mountain. As they turned to follow Ballistamon when the machine Digimon made his way down the other side of the hill they had just climbed, there was another rumbling sound in the distance and another flare-up of orange from over the mountains, as if the volcano that lay beyond it was telling the four Digimon that they had made the right decision and warning them not to change their minds, or else.

"This sure as heck is one creepy place," D-Monitamon-3 muttered to himself as they moved on, all of them unconsciously speeding up at least until the mountains were out of sight again. And once again, they were surrounded by enormous, jagged rocks and alleyways that jutted up into the sky like huge, blunt spearheads.

And they just ploughed on, letting the silence, except for the thunking sound of Ballistamon's feet, flow over them once again.

* * *

The place was called Emyn Muil, and as Gimli has said to Aragorn it was a veritable labyrinth of rock and stone with almost no life in it. It was, in place, also filled with a very dense fog which only made it more difficult for anyone to find their way through the place. It was small wonder that there seemed to be little that lived here.

And now, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, the two Hobbits who had only yesterday left the company of the rest of the Fellowship and thus escaped from the attack of the Uruk-Hai, were trying to pass through.

And needless to say, they were not finding it easy. Not by a long chalk.

For a starters, neither of them really knew where they were going anymore. Gandalf and Aragorn between them had been their guides during the journey so far, as both of them had wandered far and wide across Middle Earth and knew their way through the toughest of terrains. Frodo doubted that any Hobbit had _ever_ set foot in this rocky maze before, and they only knew the vague direction they were meant to be going in – towards Mordor in the East. But the fog was making it very difficult to work out which way East now was.

Right now, they were on the side of a cliff and slowly making their way down, using the length of Elven Rope that had been given to Sam by the Lady Galadriel. Frodo had gone first and was slowly trying to clamber his way down the cliff, looking over his shoulder and his eyes trying to pierce through the thick layer of fog beneath him.

He was also having to force the extremely vivid dream he had had last night out of his mind. He had dreamt they were back in Moria, with Gandalf on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm and facing the Balrog once again, only this time when he had fallen off, Frodo's perception had fallen with him, and he had watched as Gandalf engaged the fiery-shadowy Demon in a death-match as both of them plunged through the chasm, with the Balrog desperately flailing its huge wings and trying to get some form of control, but being unable to due to the fact it was tumbling over and over uncontrollably, kept smashing into the sides of the chasm and had a Wizard repeatedly hitting it in the chest with a sword.

The dream had ended when the both of them had plunged into an enormous lake at the bottom of the chasm and Frodo had been jerked awake. Now though, he was trying to concentrate on the task of climbing down instead of letting the fact he missed Gandalf terribly get to him again.

"Can you see the bottom?" Sam shouted, from where he was climbing down above him.

"No!" Frodo called back. "Don't look down, Sam! Just keep going!"

Sam was not fond of heights at all and he was desperately hoping that the knot he had tied around the boulder at the top of the cliff would hold. It was times like this where he _really_ wished that he was still in the Shire, but he too had to force that out of his mind and try to keep climbing down the thin rope.

Almost as soon as he did so, the rope seemed to slide downwards a little and Sam lost his footing. Fortunately, he was able to hold on with his hands, but his front slammed rather painfully into the cliff face. And, as he did so, a small wooden box that could fit into the palm of his hand slipped from a pocket and fell.

Sam spotted it and practically yelped. "Catch it! Grab it, Mister Frodo!"

Frodo looked up and saw the box bounce off an outcropping and drop down to his left. He extended a hand and caught the thing, but a moment later his own feet slipped off the edge of the cliff. And since he was only holding on with one hand, he lost his grip on the rope and with a yell of fear he plummeted down the side of the cliff.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam screamed as he looked down in horror.

Frodo fell uncontrollably… for about four feet. This was still a long fall for a Hobbit, but he was able to catch himself and stay on his feet, though the unexpected early impact did knock him for a loop for a couple of seconds. "I think I found the bottom!" he called back up as he looked around. It seemed the fog layer had only been about a foot off the ground, but had been so thick that Frodo still couldn't see it. Sam, filled with relief, hurriedly made his way down the rest of the rope until, eventually, he was standing on firm ground once again as well.

"Bogs and rope and goodness knows what," he grumbled to himself as he stepped away from the cliff. "It's not natural. None of it."

He stepped closer to Frodo and saw him examining the tiny wooden box, which had a miniature clasp holding it shut and an oak-leaf-like pattern on the lid. "What's in this?" Frodo asked curiously. He was not angry – he knew that Sam could be very attached to the things that he owned, just as he was very attached to the people he liked.

"Nothing," Sam muttered, getting very embarrassed that he had asked Frodo to catch the thing and had probably caused him to slip off at all. "Just a bit of seasoning. I thought… maybe if we was having a roast chicken one night of something?"

Frodo stared at Sam in amazement. "Roast chicken?" he almost laughed.

Sam shrugged, though he too knew full well that there was a distinct lack of chicken available to eat. "You never know," he muttered.

"Sam," Frodo shook his head in amusement. "My dear Sam." He flipped open the clasp on the box and opened it to see the thick, white seasoning inside.

"It's very special, that," Sam proclaimed, trying to justify it to his companion. "It's the best salt in all the Shire."

Frodo stared at it, now feeling slightly sad. "It _is_ special," he agreed, closing the lid and handing it back to Sam. "It's a little bit of home."

He moved past Sam and the other Hobbit sighed, both of them filled with memories of the Shire, the lovely green country they had grown up in. It was certainly a far cry from this dull and dreary pile of rocks they were in now.

"We can't leave this here for someone to follow us down," Frodo remarked, staring at the rope.

"Who's going to follow us down here, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, not seeing the slightly haunted and edgy look that Frodo now had on his face as they both stared up at the rope. Sam sighed as he stowed the salt box back in his pocket. "It's a shame really. Lady Galadriel gave me that. Real Elvish rope. Well, there's nothing for it. It's one of my knots. It won't come free in a hurry."

Sam did pride himself in his skill with certain domestic task. Gardening was the top of his list, but his ability to tie a knot was close to it. He grabbed the rope and jerked it to demonstrate the futility to trying to pull it down. To his surprise, the knot at the top of the cliff immediately came undone and the entire coil of rope slid over the side and dropped down to land in a heap right at his feet.

"Real Elvish rope," Frodo smirked.

Sam stared in bewilderment at the rope in his hand and then back up at the cliff. It seemed that the Elves still had plenty of surprises up their sleeves even if there wasn't an Elf for miles.

* * *

Hours passed, and the two Hobbits kept on walking. They managed to find a thin, winding river through the rocks that was more like a stream than anything else and they refilled their water flasks there, and then they continued to press on into the unknown, clambering up a large hill with a similar intention of trying to make sure that they were going in the right direction. Sam's large assortments of pots and pans tied to his pack weighed him down, but the Hobbit was sturdy and resilient and voiced no complaint.

When they reached the summit, they found themselves looking out over the towering rocks, and, like others before them, they could see the huge dark ridges in the distance. There were dark clouds in the sky above it constantly, and sparks of red lightning seemed to flash across the sky in places on the other side. Or perhaps that was the volcano in action. That was the very volcano that they were trying to get to and it seemed that no matter how far they walked it did not get any closer.

"Mordor," Sam muttered through clenched teeth. "The one place in Middle Earth that we don't want to see any closer. And it's the one place we're trying to get to." He hefted his pack further up his back and sighed. "It's just where we can't get."

He turned to face his fellow Hobbit, his face grim. They might know what direction they were supposed to be going in now, but the enormous crags and gullies all around them made planning a route towards it completely impossible. Straight wasn't an option. It would be impossible to go in a straight line for more than a few metres in this place.

"Let's face it, Mister Frodo," he said. "We're lost."

Frodo most certainly did not want to admit it. They were only a day away from Aragorn and the others and they already didn't have a clue what they were meant to do. Frodo knew little of Mordor. All he knew was that its main entrance was a big Black Gate, that it had the volcano Mount Doom and the tower of Barad-dûr and that it was the domain of Sauron. That was pretty much it. He didn't have the first clue how to go about finding the Gate, let alone anything else.

"I don't think Gandalf meant for us to come this way," remarked Sam sadly.

The dream from last night slammed into Frodo's mind again. "He didn't mean for a lot of things to happen, Sam," he pointed out, his voice laden with suppressed grief. "But they did."

Sam sighed again and turned away, but then, suddenly, a pall of darkness seemed to fall over Frodo's soul. His eyes seemed to be dragged inexorably in the direction of the flashing lights we could now see were indeed red lightning _and_ orange lava. There was a sensation that Frodo wouldn't know how to describe, like something in him was pulling him straight towards Mordor and then there was a jolt – the feeling of a sharp presence in his mind and one that was not his own.

Sauron.

Perhaps the Eye had somehow spotted him or it merely sensed that he was getting closer, but the result was the same. Frodo suddenly felt weak and half-collapsed, planting himself on a rock to keep from falling over completely and gasping for breath as the feeling of evil left him.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked in alarm, staring as Frodo sat there, breathing heavily and staring at the ground, unwilling to look in the direction of Mordor. Sam did not need to be told what had just happened though. He was certainly not an idiot. "It's the Ring, isn't it?"

"It's getting heavier," gasped Frodo, answering Sam's question indirectly. The Ring was constantly calling out. It too wanted to get to Mordor, but for a completely different reason and it seemed that as long as he held it, Sauron's very presence seemed close. Frodo reached up and grasped the front of his shirt at the point where they both knew the Ring now hung from the chain around his neck.

Sam knew that this was as good a time as any to take a break so he unslung his pack and sat down, rootling around inside it. Frodo took a swig from his flask and muttered, "What food have we got left?"

"Well, let me see," Sam murmured, pulling out the first item – a wafer of something mostly wrapped in a green material that looked like a large leaf. "Oh yes, lovely. Lembas bread. And look!" He reached back into the bag and pulled out something else. "_More_ lembas bread."

Frodo couldn't stop himself from smiling at Sam's exasperation. Hobbits, as a rule, liked food to be regular, varied and good. But it seemed that the Lembas bread was the only thing that they now had, which was something they were going to have to put up with for a while. Nevertheless, it was a useful thing to have. Lembas bread was made by the Elves and was specially designed to be travel rations. One little bite was enough to fill the stomach of a hungry traveller, which meant that you could live for weeks on a couple of slices. Which was a good thing, because it seemed a couple of slices was just about all they had left.

Sam broke off a piece and tossed it to Frodo, before taking another piece. Both of them bit into it and instantly felt themselves gaining renewed energy the moment they swallowed.

"I don't usually hold with foreign food," Sam stated. "But this Elvish stuff… it's not bad."

Frodo smiled. "Nothing ever dampens your spirits does it, Sam?"

Sam couldn't resist smiling back. But a distant rumble of thunder caught his attention and when he looked back up he grimaced and said, "Those rain-clouds might."

* * *

The rain hit them hard a short time later, pouring down in torrents. Both of the Hobbits knew that this would be a very good point to stop. They were lost as it was. Heading into rocky labyrinth with vision further obscured by rain which was also making everything slippery would be a very bad idea. So they sought what shelter they could under a rocky overhang, which wasn't much, pulled up their hoods and waited for it to stop.

During the course of the downpour, Frodo had the horrible sensation that they were being watched. His eyes glanced up sharply towards the top of the nearest cliff. But there was nobody there. Not that he could see anyway.

But Frodo could practically feel a pair of eyes on him and the thought was sending constantly shivers down his back. He had an equally horrible feeling that… although he couldn't see the owner of the eyes… he knew who they belonged to.

It could, of course, be his imagination.

But he doubted it.

* * *

"N-gah. Just great!" Ballistamon muttered as soon as the downpour started. "Just what I needed. Water pouring out of the sky and attempting to rust me through."

The three Monitamon had raised their arms over their heads in a ridiculously futile attempt to shield their monitors from the downpour. They were not used to rain. There were parts of the Digital World where it did rain on occasion. There were even a couple of parts where it _never stopped_ raining. But in most of it rain barely fell at all if ever.

"What do we do now?" D-Monitamon-1 asked bounding onto another rock. "Shall we keep going or… whooaahooahoah!" he added as he attempted to jump off and completely slipped, tumbling backwards over the edge of the boulder and bashing his head against the cliff.

"Careful. It's slippery," D-Monitamon-3 said a little pointlessly.

Ballistamon looked up at the sky. The rainclouds were already so thick that it practically seemed like night, even though it was still, in fact, day.

"As long as it's raining, this place could be dangerous," he observed. "We'll stop here for a while."

"Can we find some shelter first?" D-Monitamon-2 asked, shaking his TV and sending spray everywhere.

Ballistamon shook his head and keeled onto his front, planting himself on his hands and feet and lifting his bulky body as far off the ground as possible. "N-gah. Get under me."

The Monitamon looked at one another for a moment and then did as instructed, dropping down next to him and crawling beneath him. They lad to lie on their stomachs side by side to fit underneath him but they were grateful for the shelter.

"What about you?" D-Monitamon-2 asked.

"I'll manage," Ballistamon replied. "I might rust a little bit, but I'll manage."

The Monitamon fell silent, and all three hoped that one day they too could be as selfless as Ballistamon was to everyone else. But for now they took shelter and waited for the downpour to cease.

* * *

The rainstorm seemed to last for hours and indeed it did – just over three of them to be exact. That was three miserable hours the Hobbits spent huddled in their Elven cloaks and trying not to catch a cold as they were practically soaked through. The Elven cloaks did a much better job of keeping them dry than an ordinary cloak would but even they had their limits.

Throughout the entire storm, Frodo had not been able to shake that horrible feeling of being watched. He didn't tell Sam just yet, in case he turned out to be wrong and the Ring was just causing him to become paranoid, which was a very real possibility. But when it relented, he had been quick to press on, despite the fact that most of the terrain around them was still relatively wet.

They kept going as they usually did, scrambling over the rocks and through gullies and trying to get their bearings and not particularly succeeding. They tried to stick together as much as possible, though Frodo occasionally had to wait for Sam to catch up.

And then, eventually, Sam said the words which Frodo had been hoping not to hear.

"This looks strangely familiar," he observed as they stepped up to the edge of another large ravine but tried not to get too close.

Frodo sighed and felt slight despair rising up inside him. "It's because we've been here before. We're going in circles."

Sam's face looked like Frodo felt. They'd been wandering around for so long now and had been aware that they were lost but this… this really took the cake. They were more likely to wander around this maze forever and eventually run out of lembas bread than they were to find a way out at this rate.

Sam stepped closer to the edge of the ravine and his nostrils were suddenly assailed. "Ugh," he grimaced. "What's that horrid stink? I warrant there's a nasty bog nearby. Can you smell it?"

Frodo sniffed and indeed he could smell something quite repulsive. Something fetid and dirty and… familiar. A smell that he had smelt a couple of times before, most especially in Moria. "Yes," he confirmed, stepping closer to Sam. "I can smell it."

Sam seemed to catch the gravity of his tone and looked at him questioningly. Frodo turned round to look back and murmured, "We're not alone."

* * *

As soon as the rain let up, Ballistamon had stood up. It was practically impossible for him to get cramped, but three hours of being hunched over in the same position was taxing even for him. He flicked his head into the air as he rose up, flinging out the large amount of water that had settled in the groove of his horn as if it were some sort of trough and tossed it over the wall of the cave.

"N-gah," he observed. "The rain has stopped. We had best keep moving."

"Oh, do we have to?" D-Monitamon-3 groaned. "I'm knackered down here."

"Just give me a few minutes," D-Monitamon-2 whined. "I'm all stiff. I've been lying in the same position for three hours and I'm not a machine like you are."

D-Monitamon-1 said nothing. He just sagged on the ground.

Ballistamon resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes these three could be quite trying, but he would never say that to their faces of course. That would be cruel. Nevertheless, they could be relatively exasperating companions as they could still be quite childish on occasions like now when things were not going the way that they wanted them to.

"Look," he said. "I'll carry you if I have to, but we have to keep going. If we just lie here then we're not going to get anywhere in _any_ sense of the word."

He bent down and picked up D-Monitamon-3, lifting him up to deposit him on his flat head, before picking up the other two in either hand and holding them up before he pressed on with more thunking foot noises.

"Thanks, Ballistamon," D-Monitamon-3 chuckled blearily, reaching up to pat his large horn. "You're the best."

"Don't touch my horn please," Ballistamon replied.

"Sorry," the hand withdrew immediately, and the four Digimon pressed on yet again into the unknown.

* * *

Night fell quickly. The rain had taken up a large portion of the afternoon – and not to mention the days seemed to be getting shorter the closer they got to Mordor – and that meant that the Hobbits had not had as much time to move as they would have liked before the darkness set in. And still the only thing that they had achieved was to find out just how lost they were. It was practically unfair but they knew that moving about in the dark was going to be as futile as trying it in the rain. They were lost as it was. They did _not_ need it to get worse.

Now, they were both lying side by side on their separate sleeping mats, having done the best they could to make themselves comfortable on a the horrible rocky floor at the bottom of a ravine. Sam was snoring lightly, and that seemed to be about the sound that disturbed the ravine as both Hobbits looked to be out like lights.

But then… there was another sound. A horrible, low and rattling noise that sounded like… breathing. Breathing crossed with hissing. Breathing crossed with hissing with a catch in the throat of whoever was doing it.

And then, above the Hobbits, was the shape. On the wall directly above where the two were lying, something shifted between the rocks stealthily and quietly, barely making a sound as it slunk slowly over the edge of the cliff face and carefully made its way down towards the Hobbits. Though it was dark, the moon was out and, eventually, the shape moved out into the light.

It was perhaps the most thin and gangly creature relative to its body size on the face of Middle Earth. It was clothed in nothing but a tattered brown loincloth and its skin was a horrible pasty colour with a greyish tint to what had once been as pink as the flesh of a Hobbit. It was as scraggly as could possibly be, with ribs and spine vertebrae that seemed to stick out from the body like they were trying to push themselves out completely. It was no larger than a Hobbit itself but its limbs seemed longer and thinner. Its fingers and toes were also longer than ordinary, and they were grasping the rocks with the ease of a practiced climber as it moved. Its hair was virtually non-existent, but what was there was long and straggly. When it opened its mouth there were only about six rotten teeth inside and its eyes seemed to glint in the moonlight.

It's horrible breathing continued to rattle as it slowly clambered down the side of the cliff, head-first despite the near vertical drop and, as it drew closer to the sleeping Hobbits, it began to mutter to itself. Its voice was as strangled and hissy as his breathing, as if someone had a constant grip on his throat as he was talking and he physically had to force the words out of his mouth.

"The thieves. The thieves. The filthy, little thieves. Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My precious."

It was almost as if it didn't know that it was talking. It had now reached a rocky ledge directly over the Hobbits and no more than about five feet above their heads. It crouched low as it peered out over the edge, its lips pulled back in a snarl of anger that revealed its horrible teeth. As it moved out more into the light, long scars could clearly be seen running along its back, as if it had been clawed by some enormous beast or… whipped or something. As it kept talking, its voice seemed to rise in volume, another sure sign that it almost didn't realise what it was doing.

"Curse them. We hates them! It's ours it is! And we wants it!"

It was now leaning out over the ledge and its gangly, grasping hand was slowly descending towards the Hobbits as if seeking to grasp one of them by the neck and choke the life out of him, which was indeed a real possibility. But, as it uttered its last sentence, it was taken off guard because Frodo and Sam both suddenly surged upwards and seized the creature by its wrists, revealing that they had not been asleep at all, but had been listening to its every word and waiting for it to attack.

The creature screeched as the Hobbits grabbed hold of it and pulled. Its toes grasped the rock it was standing on with surprising strength but the two Hobbits together were enough to overpower it, so it did the exact opposite of trying to cling on and jumped off, leaping into a dive that carried its body over in a flip.

Neither of the Hobbits were expecting this action and as the creature dived over their heads they both tipped backwards, their grips on its wrists loosening as they fought for balance, twisting around with it and attempting to grab it by the arms and hold it more securely. But the creature landed on its feet and pushed upwards, its hand grabbing the front of Sam's shirt to pull itself and them pushing against him hard, causing him to lose his grip and stumble backwards, falling over a boulder that tripped him up as he did so.

The creature immediately swung back around and shoved Frodo off him, pushing the Hobbit away just as easily as it had done with his companion. Frodo landed with a grunt on his back and nearly hit his head, scrabbling backwards as both he and Sam tried to put some distance between themselves and the creature, which was twisting in a circle now and throwing up the mats they had been sleeping on, eyes wild and half mad.

And then it turned around to look at Frodo and, for the first time Frodo got a look at the creature. He had known who it was all along, but this was the first time he had a good look at him. For it was indeed a him. It was Gollum – the wretched creature that his uncle Bilbo had told him about from his own adventures many years ago now. Frodo had seen him before, but only at a distance and now he could see him up close, he could feel his heart rate going up at the sight of him.

And he knew what Gollum was after as well. Gollum had been one of the few people besides Frodo himself ever to possess the One Ring. And he had possessed it for over five-hundred years, meaning the Ring had a very, _very_ firm grip on his mind. Gollum was desperate to get it back, and now that there were finally know powerful and heavily armed Men, Elves or Dwarves to protect the Ring, he had seized his chance.

As Gollum's eyes shot Frodo's way, Frodo saw them widen and a look of recognition and desperation flitted across his features. Frodo's own eyes shot downwards and to his horror he saw that the Ring had escaped the confines of his shirt and was dangling on its chain in plain sight on his shoulder. Frodo had little doubt that the Ring had done that deliberately, and now it had the desired effect. Gollum pounced and landed on Frodo full on, his hands grasping for the Ring.

Frodo desperately seized Gollum's hands before he could do so and struggled to keep him at bay. But Gollum was relentless and it became a scrabbling match between the pair of them, with each of them trying to throw the hands of the other out of the way as Gollum furiously tried to get to the Ring, and Frodo furiously tried to stop him. Gollum let loose a rasping cry of rage as Frodo succeeded in grabbing his wrists and keeping the scrabbling hands away from the Ring as much as he could.

As Gollum pushed forwards, Sam had recovered enough to scramble across the campsite and seize Gollum by the ankle, pulling him off Frodo and earning the other Hobbit a temporary reprieve. But Gollum madly twisted around, putting his body at an angle that looked barely plausible and slammed his hand across Sam's face, knocking him away again and then immediately jumping on Frodo yet again.

Frodo still managed to grab the hands of his opponent, but Gollum's anger was growing now and Frodo was only just able to hold him back. He also felt his energy dropping at an alarming rate, as if the Ring itself had suddenly decided to get involved in the fight and try and help Gollum win. Gollum's fingers got nearer, trying to slip the Ring onto his finger and he even succeeded in touching the golden surface of the object, breathing heavily as he attempted to muscle forwards.

But Sam was already back up and this time he tried a different approach, scrambling to his feet and jumping on Gollum himself, wrapping his arms around Gollum's chest and heaving himself upwards. Gollum screeched in anger and fury as he was pulled away from the Ring yet again, but as Sam desperately tried to haul him away, Gollum succeeded in grabbing Frodo by the shirt. As Sam pulled Gollum, Gollum pulled Frodo, and Frodo was hauled upwards and tossed onto his back yet again with a painful grunt.

* * *

"Hey! I heard something," D-Monitamon-3 suddenly muttered from his position on Ballistamon's head, pushing himself to his feet and placing a hand up to the ear he did not have.

Ballistamon stopped walking suddenly and all four of the Digimon were listening. They, unlike the Hobbits, had decided to keep moving through the night as they at least still had some vague sense of direction thanks to Ballistamon, and it took a lot to tire out a machine Digimon like him. The Monitamon had been napping on occasion but Ballistamon kept walking, ploughing his way onwards and onwards… always onwards.

"Yeah, I hear something too," D-Monitamon-1 agreed. "A sound like… a scuffle. Some people fighting and… what is that horrible gurgling noise?"

"I don't know," Ballistamon replied, throwing himself into a run. "But fighting could still mean sentient life. Come on. We should check it out."

It was surprising how quickly Ballistamon could move when he wanted to and now he was running full pelt. He was, quite literally, a machine and he pounded around and, in one case, through the rocks as they headed towards the sight of the fighting.

It did not take them long to reach it, and they found themselves at the top of yet another ravine. It was not a particularly deep one but as Ballistamon skidded to a halt moments before falling over the edge, all four of them looked down to see the combatants not far below. Two of them appeared to be human children, albeit with bare and incredibly hairy feet. The other thing… well, none of them had a clue what the other thing was. And currently the three of them were scrabbling with each other, the two children working together against the third and not particularly succeeding.

They also appeared to be too busy to notice the new arrivals above them.

"What's going on?" D-Monitamon-2 asked. "What are they fighting about?"

"More to the point, what the heck is that thing?" D-Monitamon-3 gasped, round eyes appearing on his monitor as he stared at Gollum.

"No time for questions," Ballistamon replied, dropping the Monitamon to the ground and taking D-Monitamon-3 off his head to place him on the ground too. "Stay here and keep out of sight. Those humans are in danger and I've got to help."

* * *

As Frodo tried to regain his breath from where he had been thrown, Gollum wrenched himself free of Sam's grip and, before the Hobbit could stop him, bounded on to his shoulders and took a flying leap onto the cliff wall to scrabble his way up it slightly. But this was not an escape attempt, for moments later he twisted around and pounced, once again, on Frodo, and this time from above, landing on him and knocking the wind out of him as he seized the front of his shirt and scrabbled for the Ring.

But this time Sam was on the ball and he was on Gollum in an instant, seizing Gollum around the waist and, with a heave and growl of effort he hauled Gollum bodily into the air, leaning backwards to lift the scrabbling, slavering thing off his Master and friend to hold him off the ground.

But, as Frodo recovered his air, Gollum proved to be much more difficult to hold than Sam had anticipated. As Sam tried to hold him still, Gollum, impossibly, managed to twist his way around in Sam's arms completely until they were face to face and he was practically crouching on Sam's chest. And then, he struck, lashing forwards and his teeth gnashing right for the side of Sam's neck. Sam's Elven cloak softened the blow so the teeth didn't go in more than about a centimetre, but the shock and suddenness of the attack caused Sam to lose his balance and he crashed onto his back.

Gollum's desire for the Ring seemed to be temporarily forgotten, so determined was he to teach this Hobbit a lesson. Sam fell and Gollum rolled with him, wildly reaching for his neck and attempting to trap him in an arm-lock and choke the life out of him.

It was at this point that Frodo remembered that he had a sword at his waist and he pushed himself up, hand seizing the hilt and pulling it out. But, as he started forwards, something else caught his attention. And also beat him to Gollum.

That something was a shadow that fell over Frodo, causing him to look upwards. He yelped in astonishment as something large plummeted down into the ravine above them. Both Sam and Gollum were momentarily distracted by Frodo's yell and looked up themselves, right at the point where something bulky, metallic and blue landed with a colossal thud next to the both of them with enough force to splinter the rock beneath its broad feet.

"N-gah!" it said and a metal hand lashed out and grabbed Gollum by the arm, heaving him off Sam with absolute ease and wheeling around to fling him across the ravine. Gollum practically squealed as he was swung about to crash rather painfully into the wall of the cliff and fell to the floor in a heap of long limbs. He was so skeletal and gaunt that it was amazing that he didn't break any bones in the impact.

Sam stared upwards at his rescuer in complete shock, totally frozen and unable to move. The cube-like body, thick metal limbs, round yellow eyes set in an oblong head and the enormous horn that stuck out the top all resembled some kind of beetle. But it was also nothing like a beetle. It was like nothing that Sam had ever seen before.

Ballistamon looked back down at the Hobbit. If he had the ability to frown then he probably would have at this point. Looking at the person he had rescued now he could see quite a few differences to the humans he had met. It was true that he had hardly ever seen any of them without their shoes on, but none of their feet had been as hairy as this. There was also the ears, which were slightly pointed. And though he was small… he didn't… look that young. Nowhere near as young as Taiki or Akari or Zenjirou or any of the others.

"Are you alright?" he said after a couple of seconds.

"Er… who are… what are… what?" Sam blustered, unable to say anything else or muster many thought processes at this point.

Frodo still had his sword drawn and was now pointing it at the creature in front of him, but for some reason he got the feeling that Sting was not going to do much good against this guy.

"I said 'are you alright?'" Ballistamon asked. "You were being attacked and that thing bit you."

Sam's hands went to his neck. There was a little blood but not that much. "I… think I'm okay but…"

"Who are you?" Frodo interjected, still with Sting levelled at Ballistamon and not feeling comfortable about that situation in the slightest.

Ballistamon had always been straight to the point, so he merely said, "My name is Ballistamon. It's good to see you're alright. I heard the sound of fighting so I came quickly and saw it. You don't need to point that at me – I'm not going to hurt you."

Frodo notably did not lower his sword, which was a good thing. Gollum had been momentarily stunned by his impact with the side of the cliff, but he had come _so_ close to getting back what he craved. He had actually _touched_ it! And he was _not_ ready to back down just yet even with this new intervention. With a rasping hiss he barrelled past Sam and sprang towards Frodo. Frodo yelled and swung Sting in Gollum's direction, and Gollum had enough sense to pull short before he reached the range of the blade.

Sam quickly pushed himself to his own feet and tried to draw his own sword, but Gollum was quick and had had some experience fighting against someone who had a sword before. He made a fake lunge at Frodo and the Hobbit, who was inexperienced with a blade as it was, swung at him with a wide arc. The moment the Frodo's blade had passed Gollum's chest he lunged for real… only for a red hand to seize him by the back of the neck and slam him forcibly into the ground.

Gollum howled as his back slammed into rock and he scrabbled to get up. But before he could do so, one of Ballistamon's large, heavy feet lifted up and descended on his chest, pushing him into the ground and pinning him there. Ballistamon did not apply his whole weight – he was surely that he would kill the creature if he did that, but he applied just enough to keep Gollum from going anywhere without damaging him.

Gollum had no choice but to take this lying down, but he did his best not to. He thrashed and kicked and squirmed and swiped at the air with his grimy hands and splayed feet but this time he wasn't going anywhere. Ballistamon's weight was like that of a large boulder and if he did not want Gollum to move then he was not going to move simple as that. Gollum even lashed his head up and tried to bite his assailant, but his teeth clanged off the metal and he shrieked in anger and despair.

"So that's Gollum then," Sam murmured, as he wiped his neck. "The one that Mister Bilbo was always…"

"Sam…" Frodo raised a hand, cutting off his friend before he could reveal anything about their quest to this strange newcomer that had suddenly stepped in and helped them out. He was still eyeing Ballistamon warily, but he felt it safe to say that Ballistamon was not a threat. There was no way of determining his expression since his face was frozen and he had no real mouth, but Frodo certainly didn't get the same air from him as he did with the minions of evil he had felt so far.

Still, it was better to be on the safe side.

"Look, Master… Ballista," he coughed. "We… thank you for your help. That creature… could have overpowered us."

"Bagginses!" Gollum snarled from underneath Ballistamon's foot, gripping the blue cuboid and trying to heave it off and making no headway at all. "They stole it from us! Sneaky little hobbitses trying to trick us! Wicked, nasty, metal thing should stay out of this! We wants our birthday present! We wants it back! _Gollum! Gollum!"_

Frodo shuddered. The noise was just Bilbo had described it - a horrible coughing, retching noise from the back of his throat. But now he was wary again – Gollum had said his name. If this new guy was a minion of evil then he was probably aware of the name Baggins by this point – Sauron would have everyone out searching for a Hobbit by the name of Baggins.

But there was nothing to suggest that Ballistamon had realised the significance of that name. Then his face was so frustratingly unreadable that Frodo just couldn't tell.

"Wow," was all the Digimon said. "This guy has some serious issues."

"You bet he does," Sam nodded, scowling at Gollum with an expression of loathing as he massaged his neck. "I don't suppose you could do us a favour, whatever you are, and just squish him?"

"Sam!" Frodo rounded on him. "You can't kill him now! He's defenceless!"

"But Mister F… Merry," Sam quickly replaced Frodo's real name just in case. "He's Gollum. He was going to kill us in our sleep. It's what he deserves."

Gollum snarled at him, but then he finally seemed to realise the fact that Ballistamon had him well and truly stuck, and a horrible wailing noise began to come out of his throat. A cry of utter despair and loss that made even Ballistamon flinch. The failure to acquire the One Ring had hit Gollum hard.

Speaking of the Ring, Frodo quickly stowed it in his shirt and hoped that Ballistamon had not seen it. He had no idea who or what Ballistamon was supposed to be, but while he was grateful for his intervention he wanted to get out of his presence as quickly as possible. The last thing that the two Hobbits wanted was to be asked a load of questions that they didn't want to answer, like what they were doing out here.

"We can't, Sam," Frodo shook his head. "That's not the sort of thing… our mentors… would have had us do."

Sam still looked repulsed, but he had to admit that Frodo was right. He sighed unhappily.

"And I won't kill him either," Ballistamon added for clarification. "It's against everything Xros Heart believes in."

"What's Xros Heart?" Sam asked.

"The name of the army I'm part of," Ballistamon replied simply. "I don't know where the others are at the moment though. I'm a little lost. Do you know where we are?"

Frodo cleared his throat. The word 'army' had set him on edge. "Er, yes," he nodded. "I… I think that this place is called Emyn Muil."

"Never heard of it," Ballistamon shrugged his huge metal shoulders. "Do you know how to get out?"

"Er, yes." Frodo nodded quickly. "You can… get out of here by going West as straight as you can. You could… probably get out from any direction but West is where you want to go to find cities and people."

"Thank you," Ballistamon nodded. "But can I ask, what are you guys? I thought that you were human children before… but now I don't think you are."

"We're, uh, Halflings," Frodo clarified. "But, what are you anyway?"

"We haven't ever seen anything like you," Sam agreed.

"Well, I'm a Digimon," Ballistamon replied. "Ever heard of them?"

"No," Frodo and Sam replied at the same time.

"That's what I was afraid of," Ballistamon sighed. "I've never heard of Halflings either. I must be well and truly lost if I've ended up outside the Digital World or to any place where Digimon haven't been heard of. This isn't the human world, is it?"

"Er…" Sam stammered.

"Never mind," Ballistamon shook his head.

Frodo cleared his throat and said, "Look, Mister Digimon. We… thank you once again for helping us with our little… problem."

"Filthy little hobbitses! They stole it from us!" Gollum wailed from his place on the ground.

Ballistamon looked up sharply. "You stole something from him? What did you steal?"

"Nothing!" Frodo cried, far too quickly. "He's… he's lying. We didn't steal anything from him." This was technically true as the Ring had been picked up by Bilbo and not them, but he was so quick to keep the topic off the Ring that Ballistamon clearly noticed this was a sensitive issue.

"It lies! It steals and it lies! They stole our birthday present! My precious!" Gollum hissed.

"He's delusional," Sam countered. "And can't you see he's half mad. We haven't taken anything from him, you mark my words, Mister Ballista."

Ballistamon said nothing for several moments and Frodo was certain that he was going to press the matter. But instead, Ballistamon said, "N-gah. Fair enough. But what do you want me to do with him? I'm not going to kill him."

Frodo and Sam looked at one another. They were both as eager to get away from Gollum as they were to finish this conversation and leave, perhaps much more so. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere near him and the last thing they wanted was for Ballistamon to find out about the quest they were on. So, Frodo eventually shrugged and said, "Could you take him to some kind of prison somewhere and put him in a dungeon?"

Ballistamon blinked… or would have if he could. "A dungeon?" he asked. "I don't know where any of those are."

"Neither do we," Sam murmured.

"Well, we can't have him follow us," Frodo replied. "He's been doing it for many days now and we have to go."

"You do?" Ballistamon asked. "Where are you going?"

This was precisely what Frodo did _not_ want to start talking about. "We're going to… the Lonely Mountain." He immediately decided to adapt the stories that Bilbo had told him of his own adventures for use in this particular situation. "Yes, we're going to see the Lonely Mountain. It's a long journey and we don't want to interrupt it for any reason so… can you take him off our hands."

"Take your foots off us!" Gollum was still squirming from where Ballistamon had him pinned down.

"Can I come with you?" Ballistamon asked.

"NO! I mean, no, sorry," Frodo shook his head.

"But I don't have the faintest idea where I'm going."

"Yes but… but…" Frodo was struggling now.

"It's a private Halfling thing," Sam came to his rescue. "You see, it's a… sort of test. When a Hobbit comes of age, he must go on a journey to see the Lonely Mountain to… to prove himself to the Halfling Elders. Um… he's allowed to take one friend with him for help but nobody else is allowed to go with them."

That seemed as good an explanation as any Frodo could think of even if it was wildly made up. Ballistamon stared at them both silently for several moments before he merely said. "Okay. Fair enough."

"Glad you understand," Frodo nodded. "Now… um… we've really got to go. We're already behind schedule and… do you think that you can make sure that… he doesn't follow us?"

"Okay," Ballistamon gave the Hobbits a thumbs up. They both stared at his hand in bewilderment for a moment, but then Frodo shook himself and hurriedly began to gather up his possessions. Sam bent to do the same and they hurriedly packed up their sleeping matts and hauled up their packs, watched by Ballistamon the whole time as Gollum writhed on helplessly.

"Thank you, Mister Ballista," Sam turned to him once again.

"That's Ballistamon," the Digimon replied. "Good luck on your quest."

Frodo swallowed. "Yes. Thank you. Good luck to you too, Mister," he said quickly. "Come on, Sam. We've got to get moving. That… mountain isn't going to come any closer to us."

"You got it, Mister F… Merry," Sam coughed, quickly changing Frodo's name a second time.

But, as soon as the two of them stepped forwards, Ballistamon cried, "Wait!" The Hobbits froze and turned back slowly and were shocked to the core when they saw Ballistamon's chest suddenly slide open to reveal the compartment inside. Ballistamon reached up with a large hand and grasped a small device nestled in the centre of the shelf his chest had made by folding outwards. It was a small, red device attached to a strap.

"This is a wrister," Ballistamon showed them before tossing it to Sam, who caught it in a fumbling manner and stared at it. "If you change your mind and you need some help in the future then you can contact me with that thing and if I can then I'll come and help you. If I can't then I'll try and tell someone who can."

Sam and Frodo glanced at each other again and Sam stowed the small device in his pocket absent-mindedly. "Thank you," he nodded. "Much appreciated, sir."

And then it happened. Gollum, who had been lying very still for a while now, took advantage of Ballistamon momentary distraction with the wrister. He had grabbed a rock from off the floor and flung it upwards, catching Ballistamon in the horn and causing him to stumble backwards a little bit. The moment Ballistamon's foot shifted, Gollum squirmed out from underneath it and scrambled forwards.

Frodo and Sam both drew their swords and Gollum pulled to a stop. He knew that he was outmatched now and he could hear Ballistamon immediately making for him from behind so he did the first thing that came to mind – he scarpered. He sprang for the cliff wall and scuttled up it with all the speed and practice of a four-legged spider, jumping from rock to rock as he made his way upwards and away.

"Oi, come back and fight!" Sam shouted.

Ballistamon spread his arms and roared, **"HEAVY SPEAKER!"** Huge sound waves erupted from the speaker built into his chest and surged towards Gollum. Gollum hissed and sprang upwards as the sound waves cannoned into the cliff-side where he had been moments before. The impact caused him to lose his grip on the rock nevertheless and slide downwards several feet.

However, he did manage to catch himself again, hooking his fingers around loose holds, and them scampered up and away and vanished from sight.

Frodo and Sam were too busy gaping at Ballistamon to really register the gravity of what had just happened. The sheer amount of power that Ballistamon possessed astonished both of them. For a fraction of a second, Frodo wondered if perhaps they might be safer if this guy had tagged along, but as Gandalf had said the Ring had a greater effect on the powerful than it did the ordinary. Plus, he still didn't know anything about this creature really. And they had decided to go alone to prevent the Ring from affecting other people anyway.

So he ran. He turned and bolted down the ravine, away from Ballistamon and away from Gollum, wherever the wretched creature was now.

And yet, as he ran, Frodo couldn't help but feel a spark of pity in his heart for Gollum as he remembered what he had looked like pinned underneath Ballistamon's foot. As Gandalf had said… he had indeed been… pitiful.

But Frodo barely registered the thought. All he really thought about now was escaping them all so they could continue on the quest.

Ballistamon made no move to follow the Halflings, or to track down Gollum. He knew full well that in a maze like this he was going to be very lucky to find either of them again, and it was quite clear that those two Halflings wanted nothing to do with him.

That hurt him to some degree. Ballistamon was never too proud to help somebody who needed it but those two Halflings had outright rejected it.

And one thing that you always had to remember about Ballistamon was that he was logical. He was practical. And he was also always remarkably level-headed. Some people might have been taken in by the story which the Halflings had given to him, but to Ballistamon it had all felt extremely spontaneous and a little rushed and, in places, hesitant.

It was hard to lie to Ballistamon. He usually saw right through it.

"N-gah," he muttered to himself. "Those two definitely have some sort of problem."

"Can we come down now, Ballistamon?" one of the Monitamon called down from above.

"Yes," Ballistamon nodded and the three other Digimon bounded over the side of the cliff and bounced down the side of the cliff. One of them almost went plummeting all the way, but was able to arrest his fall by landing in a very undignified manner on his backside after twisting violently onto another ledge.

"That was all very confusing," D-Monitamon-2 remarked. "But I don't think any of them saw us anyway so we did our job right?"

"What do we do now?" D-Monitamon-1 asked. "Are we just going to keep going and leave them to their quest to this mountain?"

"I don't think they're going to where they say they are," Ballistamon murmured. "I think that most of what they were saying there was lies. I think that they're in some kind of situation and whatever that is, it means that they don't want anybody around them."

All three Monitamon stared off down the ravine the Hobbits had dashed down. "Maybe they're fugitives," one of them suggested. "And they're trying to hide from other people in this maze place."

"I doubt it," Ballistamon remarked.

"Then maybe they're on some super-secret spy mission or something like that," chuckled D-Monitamon-3.

"They don't look like the right kind of people for spying," D-Monitamon-1 countered.

"Neither do you, but you do it pretty well," Ballistamon pointed out. The three Monitamon promptly displayed . emoticons on their screens and said, "Thank you," at the same time. Ballistamon suppressed a chuckle, but then grew more focused and serious again.

"I don't know what that was all about really, but I am pretty sure of one thing," he said. "Whatever is going on with those two, I am pretty certain that they are in some kind of trouble. They were scared of me and scared of that other creature and tried to escape as quickly as possible but their excuses seemed a little bit off to me."

"So they were definitely lying?" D-Monitamon-2 asked.

"I think so," Ballistamon nodded. "And I accidentally allowed that creature who was attacking them to escape, and I do not think that it is going to leave them alone. It seemed pretty adamant at getting to them even when I was there to confront it. Even if their journey is not dangerous then that creature could be."

"So what are we supposed to do?" D-Monitamon-1 asked.

"What do you think?" Ballistamon asked, turning to face them. "What is the motto of the Xros Heart United Army and King Shoutmon?"

"We can't turn our backs," all three Monitamon recited immediately.

"Yes," Ballistamon nodded. "And we may be in a strange place but that rule still applies. We should try and help them. I gave them the wrister so if they want help they can ask but well… we still need to find them again and…"

"No problem," D-Monitamon-1 puffed out his chest proudly. "We'll go track them down – they can't have gotten that far yet and we can still find each other when we need to so we can split up if necessary."

"Yeah," D-Monitamon-3 agreed. "Come on! Let's go!"

"Right!" D-Monitamon-2 cried, and before Ballistamon could do anything else, they darted forwards and vanished from sight as they zipped off into the ravine.

"Wait!" Ballistamon called out after them. "One of you should stay… be…hind…" he slowly tailed off, knowing that it was no good. The three Monitamon could be blazing fast when they wanted to be and they were probably some distance away already. Ballistamon sighed to himself and stepped over to the rock that Sam had tripped over earlier to settle on it and wait. Wait for the Monitamon to return and lead him to the Halflings.

But, right now, he had a horrible feeling that his part in this particular adventure was already over.

* * *

It took approximately twenty minutes for the Monitamon to locate the two Hobbits. They had fanned out through a large area and were trying not to trip over themselves as they moved through the rocks and across the ravines. Eventually one of them did come across the two as they stood in a ravine below, panting for breath after their long run away from both Ballistamon and Gollum.

Immediately, the Monitamon broadcast a signal across the landscape to the other two Monitamon and whispered that he had found the two Halflings that they were looking for. It took a few more minutes but eventually the Monitamon homed in on the signal of their companion and soon the three of them were together, peering over the edge of the cliff and down at them.

The one with the darker hair seemed to sense that he was being watched again and looked up towards them, forcing all of them to draw back from the edge in the blink of an eye. He hadn't seen them but he was sure something was up there and he quickly ushered his companion further into the huge labyrinth and onwards.

The Monitamon kept pace. As missions went this one was relatively easy even for them – all they had to do was stay out of sight and follow the Halflings. Even so, there were still a couple of instances where one of the tripped and almost went plummeting over an edge and, in the second case, caused a pile-up of all three.

Once they disentangled themselves and kept on running, D-Monitamon-1 murmured. "Alright, so we've found them. We should get in contact with Ballistamon and get him to come towards us as well before they get too much further ahead."

"They're pretty far ahead already," D-Monitamon-3 replied.

"Then we'd better be quick about it," D-Monitamon-1 tried to take charge. "Someone send a message."

"Er… how?" D-Monitamon-2 asked.

"Huh?" D-Monitamon-1 asked, drawing to a halt. "What do you mean how? One of us has to send a message to… oh…" he stopped, wide eyes appearing on his screen. "None of us stayed behind did we?"

"There are still three of us here," D-Monitamon-3 pointed out. "So yeah. We all went. We can only send transmissions to one another. Ballistamon might be a machine but he can't pick up anything that we send. One of us should have stayed with him to wait."

"Well then, one of us can double back now and get him?" tried D-Monitamon-1.

"Okay," D-Monitamon-2 nodded. "Um… does anyone know the way back?"

The three of them all looked around one another at the rest of Emyn Muil which stood tall around them. It looked… pretty much the same to them no matter where they looked. And none of them had bothered to memorise the way back or any landmarks as they had been so focused on finding the Hobbits.

They had no idea which direction Ballistamon was. Or how far away he was. They had not picked up a wrister from him so they could not talk to him either. They were lost… and this time on their own.

"I don't suppose one of us left a trail of bread-crumbs," D-Monitamon-3 murmured glumly.

"With what? We don't have bread," D-Monitamon-2 chided him. "But seriously, why does this always happen to us? Why do we _never_ think it through properly?"

"Because we're dunces," D-Monitamon-1 sighed miserably. "We always have been? Always, always, _always_ messing things up for everyone. And now, we've done it again?"

"So what do we do?" D-Monitamon-3 asked.

D-Monitamon-1 was silent for a moment but, eventually, he said, "We should stick with those Halflings. Ballistamon can take care of himself. We need to make sure that they stay safe."

The other two Monitamon looked unhappy but eventually nodded and the three of them hurried off after the Hobbits once again.

* * *

Ballistamon sat on that rock waiting for the Monitamon to return for over twelve hours. The Sun rose in the sky, rather pale and bleak compared to what the Sun was meant to look like and it was slipping down to setting position once again by the time Ballistamon gave up. The Monitamon weren't going to return. They would have done a long time ago if they were. They'd gotten lost and now Ballistamon was totally alone again.

Ballistamon stood there for another twenty minutes trying to decide what to do before he finally came to a decision. There was little point wasting time trying to find the Monitamon or those Halflings, regardless of what else was going on. Both the questing Halflings and his three Digimon companions would now be a very, _very_ long way off. The logical thing to do was keep going and try to find the other Digimon and then perhaps return to try and find them with someone who could fly with them.

And so, regretting each step, he turned and headed West.

* * *

Alrighty then, there you have it. Another example of how thing are beginning to play out a little differently. Gollum's role in this story is still set to be very large even if he is not yet part of the company which is heading towards Mount Doom and now the Hobbits have some extra tagalongs. They will acquire a few more soon enough as well and once again, now that the Digimon have interfered with events, the dialogue will start being different from the movies for Frodo and Sam from this point onwards.

Till next time. Whenever that is.

* * *

Next time…

Mervamon and Cutemon join the Fellowship in their headlong run northeast after the Uruk-Hai that have taken Merry and Pippin captive, while Merry and Pippin themselves try and find a way out of their situation. And at Isengard, Saruman continues to prepare for his war against Rohan.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 11 : Malice of Middle Earth**


	11. Malice of Middle Earth

Ugh. I thought that my parents going away to Germany for a few days would give me the opportunity to do more writing. It turns out I was wrong. Ah well, never mind. The point is that I'm here now and now that I am I fully intend to get on with these chapters. Once again though I really cannot promise anything but that's not going to stop me from trying. Now that I'm starting to get into the swing of the stories things might pick up a little bit from here. I can only hope, but I hope that you appreciate this latest chapter, even if it doesn't greatly advance the story as much as I would like.

**Anonymous** – LOL. It is true that there are many Tolkein obsessionists out there who believe that Tolkein's writings are the only way that Middle Earth stories should be told. But let's be honest – if they're expecting things to read things that are exactly like the LOTR books then they're on the wrong website – things are _meant_ to be different in a fanfiction, or there wouldn't be any point writing it. The presence of thirty Digimon though are going to have MASSIVE consequences for Middle Earth, and I am not just talking about firepower for the good guys. They will be helping in _many_ other ways as well and making things end very, _very_ differently.

**Chris** – I do indeed have the Extended Versions and I also have a freaky memory for movie lines. It takes me days to revise for exams and drill everything into my brain but I can memorise a movie practically from watching it once. It's scary.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 11:- Malice of Middle Earth**

* * *

Mervamon had not run so far at speeds such as the one she was using right now for some time. There had been times in the past, before she even became a member of Xros Heart, where she had been forced for cross large expanses of the Digital World in order to respond to distress calls from victims of the Bagra Army but that had been a very long time ago now. In fact, Mervamon doubted that she had _ever_ run as far as she had done already in a single sitting.

And yet still she ran on. She was a fit and strong Digimon, more than capable of keeping up the running and the pace without much, or any, problems. She knew that she could actually go faster than this if she so desired with ease, her long strides enabling her to cover distance at great speed. The only thing stopping her from doing so now were the fact that she needed to keep a pace that suited their new companions, and she actually had very little idea where they were going anyway.

It had been some hours now since they had begun running. Mervamon had long since lost track of time, but the Sun had set, the Moon had rose and sank and the Sun had risen again already since they had left the lake. Now the Sun was high in the sky once again, and still they ran on.

Mervamon had to admit that she was impressed with what she was seeing from the humanoids around her. She knew little of human physiology but she was pretty sure that none of the humans she knew could have done this. They would have given up hours ago, unless of course they were Taiki, who never gave up when somebody was in trouble. But Taiki would have long overexerted himself and collapsed to the floor, prompting Akari to throw something to soften his fall before he hurt his face.

And yet these adult humanoids seemed to be still going strong. Granted Gimli and Legolas were not humans and Gimli himself was definitely not fairing as well as most of the others. The Dwarf was laden down by heavy armour while the other's weren't, and he obviously also had shorter legs and a stockier build to contend with but he was doing admirably so far.

Boromir, on the other hand, was doing even worse than Gimli. Mervamon got the feeling he was usually stronger than this, but the Man was clearly suffering from exhaustion. Cutemon might have been able to heal him, but he was still greatly weakened by the experience of being shot three times by arrows so large they were half-way to being javelins. He had lost a good deal of blood from some areas and he had been given little chance to rest.

It was almost a shame that they didn't have a Xros Loader handy. If Boromir had been a Digimon he could have hopped into one of those and been carried around while his energy replenished. But, unfortunately, Boromir was not a Digimon and they didn't have said device anyway, so wishful thinking was going to do very little for them at this point.

Nevertheless, despite the obvious exertions that were being placed on him, Boromir was dogmatically continuing, a grim expression on his face as he fought with himself, spurring himself on and pushing his feet to keep carrying him forwards. His teeth were clenched and his jaw set and it was obvious that he had no plans to stop anytime soon.

Mervamon had a feeling she knew what was driving him – guilt. Boromir claimed that he had failed to protect the two Halflings that they were currently heading off to rescue, and he had been unable to prevent them being taken away when shot by those arrows. Now he seemed to have a near overwhelming desire to make amends and put things right.

Regardless of the situation the only time they stopped was when Aragorn, who was leading, paused to examine something on the ground that pointed them in the right direction. Or so Mervamon assumed. She was any things but a tracker was not one of them, so she rarely picked up on anything that Aragorn seemed to have spotted in the dirt. She only had his word that they were still on the trail of those Uruk-Hai things.

Aragorn himself seemed to be showing only mild signs of fatigue, whereas Legolas the Elf was showing absolutely none. Said Elf still had his bow in hand and was running alongside Mervamon in the middle of the group but his face was implacable and there were no signs of panting, sweat or tiredness anywhere on him despite the distance they had run. It was almost eerie.

Nevertheless, Mervamon was beginning to get a little impatient. They had been running for so long but almost no words had been exchanged between any of the members of the group. She still knew so little of what she had gotten herself into. When it came to talking about themselves and why the Uruk-Hai had attacked them, the group seemed to become slightly evasive. They were clearly hiding something, and Mervamon knew it really was none of her business. But still, there was a small part of her that was determined to find out what.

She also knew nothing about the creatures that they were going after, what these Merry and Pippin's relationships were to these people aside from friendship, where they were and, above all, what the deal had been with those two other members of their party who they had let go off on their own. Boromir had spoken about failing the whole group, but that just went in one of Mervamon's pointed ears and out the other with no meaning leaving itself in between. Because she got a feeling that he had meant more than just being unable to stop two of their numbers being taken.

So they pressed on in comparative silence. Mervamon could occasionally feel the others turning their gazes upon her warily – they still didn't completely trust her. She ignored them, as she knew they had every right to be suspicious of her. Cutemon though was another matter. The small bunny had long since succumbed to tiredness and was slumped across Mervamon's head, sound asleep and somehow balancing himself despite this. Things had gotten so exciting for him that the little guy was completely tuckered out.

The landscape had changed around them. It had been many leagues before they got out of the forest, and Mervamon could still see it in the distance behind her if she turned her head, but for the most part everything now seemed to be rolling plains of yellowish grass with rocky outcrops every few-dozen yards or so. Mervamon still had literally no idea where they were. All she knew was that this was not her world, and that when somebody finally produced a map, she would be very happy indeed.

Eventually, though, she could bear it no longer and she spoke up without breaking her stride. "So then. Aren't you going to tell me a little bit more about the enemy which we're chasing down? They seem to be going pretty fast themselves if we haven't managed to catch up with them yet?"

"You are right," Aragorn called over his shoulder. "If these were ordinary orcs then we would have caught them some time ago, for they fear to travel under the light of the Sun. But these orcs are far from ordinary. I have never seen orcs of their build before yesterday."

"Neither I," Legolas agreed. "They are taller and stronger than any orc that I have encountered before."

"At best I would say they resemble the branch of orcs found in Mordor known as the Uruk-Hai," Aragorn stated. "But these ones were taller and stronger even then them. Nevertheless, that is what I believe they are. Uruk-Hai."

"That tells me very little I'm afraid," Mervamon sighed. "I have never heard of their kind before either. We don't have them where we come from."

"This mysterious Digital World of yours?" Gimli huffed as he struggled to keep up. "You are lucky indeed not to have filth like those orcs running about the place in your homes."

"It is not surprising though," Legolas said, tight-lipped. "For if they do not have Elves then it is more than likely they have no orcs either."

"Why?" Mervamon asked with a frown. "Are you the same species or something?"

"No longer," Legolas said grimly. "Most of Middle Earth is aware of this already but if what you claim is true and you are not from around here then I suppose you would not be aware of this. Orcs were not created by Ilúvatar like the Elves and Men were, nor were they fashioned from scratch by a member of the Valar as the Dwarves were. But in Ancient Times, long before I was ever born, Orcs were created from Elves by the first Dark Lord Morgoth."

Mervamon's eyes widened in alarm. "Created _from_ Elves?" she asked. "You mean to say that you and these orcs share a common ancestry because someone, this Dark Lord person, _warped _some Elves into being those… creatures."

"That is exactly what I am saying," Legolas confirmed grimly. "There are comparatively few Elves that still remember those times left in this world, but it was supposedly a terrible time indeed. Several of our brethren were enslaved and tortured, mutilated, placed under Dark Magic and all kinds of hideous things in order to become the orc race. I do not even wish to imagine the horrors inflicted on the Elves that were to become the first Orcs. It does not bear thinking about."

"Agreed," Mervamon added through gritted teeth. "That _is_ evil. Pure evil right there. Makes Whispered seem like a playful child in comparison. But, if these orc creatures were once like your kind, Legolas, then is it not possible that some residual goodness of the Elves remain in them."

"No," Legolas said, stiffly. "My people tried to reason with them once and they were ruthlessly cut down. No orc has goodness in their hearts anymore. They are a race born purely out of evil and every ounce of goodness was stripped from their ancestors long ago, leaving nothing to pass down to the orcs that we fight today. And these Uruk-Hai are perhaps even more evil than they, for they were created for this purpose rather than warped into it."

Mervamon said nothing after that for a while. But when she spoke again, it was merely to say, "I'm sorry."

"And I thank you for it," Legolas sent her a slight smile as he ran on. "The Elves have long come to terms with the origins of the orc race. Now, we do our best to defend Middle Earth from their vicious ways. But…" he added, with a small sigh. "The power of my people is fading. I do not know how much longer we continue to protect this land."

Mervamon had no response to this. At least she could not think of one that sounded appropriate so she just buttoned her lip and ran on, following Aragorn over around a rock outcropping and further out until they were running across the top of one enormous cliff that seemed to look down over yet more grassland far below.

Eventually, Mervamon continued the conversation with the words, "This Morgoth that you mentioned – you claim that he was the _first_ Dark Lord? I assumed that means that he was defeated."

"Indeed," Aragorn called over his shoulder. "He was cast down and the Valar chained him and cast him into the Void. He would not be able to return from such a fate, I can assure you of that."

"That's good," Mervamon nodded. "But it must also mean that another Dark Lord has cropped up since then, doesn't it? Possibly more than one, am I right?"

"It is just the one," Aragorn replied. "Do you not know of Sauron?"

"I cannot say that I do," Mervamon replied. "The last Dark Lord that I was aware of was DarknessBagramon, but he was defeated and slain by the combined efforts of everyone in the Digital World. I have not heard of this Sauron any more than I have heard of anything else from this place."

"We only have your word on that," Gimli pointed out as he huffed along at the rear with Boromir.

"Nevertheless it is true," Mervamon stated a little stiffly. "What happened to Sauron then?"

"A more appropriate question of that would be what is happening to him now," Boromir grunted as he gasped to regain as much of his breath as he could. "He is in the process of trying to spread his dark rule over this land once again. He is still very much alive. If what you say is true and you come from a completely different world then you chose a very bad place to land yourself in, I'm afraid."

"Ah," Mervamon muttered. "Wonderful. Another tyrannical being intent of subjugating everyone underneath his foot. And I thought Zamielmon was bad enough."

"These names you speak of mean little to us, I'm afraid, Mervamon," Legolas glanced across at her.

"Nor should they," Mervamon replied. "But you should nevertheless be thanking anything you can that the Death Generals and the Bagra Army never made it here. I don't know how serious this situation is with your Sauron but suffice to say things would have been incredibly bad indeed if that had happened."

"Then I suppose we should be grateful that it was you who ended up here instead," Gimli wheezed.

"I already am," Boromir pointed out, reaching up a hand and tracing his fingers through the holes in his tunic that had been left by the three arrows that Lurtz had hit him with.

"And what of these two… Halflings that we are running to rescue?" Mervamon asked. "Who are they?"

"Merely a pair of innocent travelling companions of ours," Aragorn replied quickly, having no desire to get Mervamon any further involved with the business of the One Ring than she already was. He wished Gandalf were here. The old Wizard seemed to have a greater knack for knowing who to trust and who not to. He would have known whether these two new companions of theirs could be trusted with the secret or not. But Aragorn, while sure by this point that their new companions were _trustworthy_ and not evil, he still didn't know if they could be _trusted._ Not yet. He simply didn't know enough about them yet to make that call.

Cutemon stirred from the top of Mervamon's head. Before he drifted off he had taken one of Mervamon's ribbons and tied it around his waist to anchor himself to the projections of the helmet and stop him from falling off. Now, he yawned and opened his eyes, looking blearily out around them.

"Where are we, kyu?" he murmured, rubbing one eye with his small fingers.

"Yes, I would quite like to know that myself," Mervamon agreed.

"I know these lands," Aragorn responded. "And I would say that we should soon be approaching the East Emnet of Rohan if we continue in this direction."

Mervamon chuckled. "Those names means as little to me as the names of the people I mentioned previously did to you, I'm afraid."

A brief smile flashed across Aragorn's face as he increased his speed. "We need to find you a map then."

"Yes, I do need to brush up on my geography, don't I?" Mervamon snorted.

Cutemon giggled quietly, looking up at the sky to check how high the Sun was in order to find out what time of day it was. He blinked and screwed up his eyes slightly, trying to see something high above, but then he rapped his small fist on Mervamon's helmet and said, "Hey! Hey, look, kyu! Up there!"

"What?" Mervamon asked, risking a look upwards despite the fact that they were running along the edge of a cliff. What she saw made her skid to a halt and Gimli almost cannoned into her from behind. The Dwarf loudly objected but Mervamon barely heard, screwing up her eyes to focus on what Cutemon had seen. High above, a distant black silhouette against the sky, was a dark shape. Whatever it was, it was clearly winged and if Mervamon squinted, she was sure that those wings were feathered, though it was so high up that it was difficult to tell.

"Beelzemon?" she murmured to herself. "Is that Beelzemon?"

"That's what I wondered, kyu," Cutemon nodded. "It… kinda looks like him if you tilt your head just right."

The rest of the group had also pulled to a brief stop and were looking up at the shape. "I do not know who you think that is," Legolas voiced. "But I can tell you that that is one of the Great Eagles that roam the skies of our world. They're huge birds that usually live in the mountains, but I have seldom heard of one of them coming this far south."

Mervamon felt her heart sink. "You can tell what it is that easily?"

"Elf eyes are extremely keen," Aragorn related. "Far more keen than those of Men and Dwarves, though I do not know about your kind Mervamon. Nevertheless, I agree with Legolas. It is most unusual for the Eagles to venture this far South, especially on their own. The only times they leave their mountain roosts and travel such great distances is when they have a battle to fight."

Mervamon sighed. She felt a pang in her heart as she realised just how much she missed Beelzemon. At least he was not dead this time around, but still she felt an unshakable longing to find him again, to make sure he was okay. She had no idea where he was at this stage and in her opinion that was almost as bad as him being dead. For all she knew, he _was_ dead.

What if she never found him again?

Legolas seemed to notice Mervamon's sadness and might have been about to say something, but before he could Gimli spoke up with, "Fascinating as the home range of a species of giant bird might be, shouldn't we keep going? Those orcs will be getting further away and taking the Hobbits with them if they're not dead already."

"Yes, Gimli," Aragorn nodded. "Come. We must make haste!" And he turned and continued in the headlong run, with the others all following on a brief moment later. Mervamon, though, was now only half paying attention to where she was going, her mind filled with images of her beloved Beelzemon and wondering if he was okay. It felt like someone was trying to squeeze her heart until burst inside her.

Cutemon definitely caught Mervamon's mood and quietly raised her from her thoughts with the words, "Don't worry, Mervamon. We'll find him again. We'll find all of them again, right, kyu?"

Mervamon breathed out through her nose and forced a smile as she nodded and said, "Yeah. Yeah, you bet we will."

And she set her focus back to the running. So the group continued to plough their way westward on the trail of their elusive enemy.

* * *

Said elusive enemy was still moving themselves. The Uruk-Hai were built for running – they had sturdy legs and thickset bodies that were practically filled to the brim with stamina, making them far more reliable than a regular orc for getting to places quickly. They did not fear sunlight and they had massive reserves of energy within their bodies, allowing them to run faster, harder and further than other orc species, as well as fight harder on the battlefield.

They were the physical embodiment of everything twisted in the orc race, but with the strength of the Elves that the race had once been. There was a reason that Saruman stated they were orcs perfected.

Granted, there were considerably less of the Uruk-Hai than there had been when they had set out, but that didn't matter. They were on a mission and they were going to carry it out all the way to the end. Even the loss of their leader had done little to slow them up. When it became clear to them that Lurtz was not going to catch up as they originally presumed, one Uruk-Hai had quickly taken charge of everything.

With a regular group of orcs, there would have been a struggle and probably a full-blown fight until one of them stood above the competition and beat his opponents down before taking over. But the Uruks were not a mindless rabble. They were far more organised and disciplined – as much as any orc could be. After their new leader had been established, they had only paused to help secure their cargo – the two Hobbit prisoners.

Merry and Pippin had been secured to the backs of two large Uruk-Hai, their arms slung around the necks of the Uruks and bound there so they had no choice but to hold on like small children being given piggy-backs by their father. It was not an image that either of them found pleasant, and despite their best efforts there was nothing they could do to escape. Even if they could find a way to get down from the back of the Uruks carrying them, they would surely never be able to outrun the significantly larger and stronger humanoids. Not in a million years. And not even after that.

They'd said very little on their journey. The both of them had been left shocked to the core, the image of Boromir filled with three arrows implanted firmly on their minds. They were absolutely sure that the man who had fought to protect them was now dead. How could he have survived something like that? He had died to protect them and they had just been caught anyway?

It had left the two of them more stunned than they were about actually being captives.

Now, Pippin looked over to the neighbouring Uruk which Merry was being carried by and balked at what he saw. So consumed had he been in his own shock and misery that he had failed to notice the condition his friend was in. Merry had not faired the journey so well. The helmet of the Uruk he was carried by that a ridge around its base and Merry had evidently hit his head on it during the run and had been knocked out by it. There was a large gash on the side of his head running down past his eyebrow and given he was still unconscious or at least dazed, said cut was still rubbing against the ridge that had caused it in the first place, meaning it was still raw and bleeding.

Pippin's throat constricted and he fought the urge to cry out – he did _not_ want to get on the bad side of these Uruks that were carrying them. Instead, he hissed, "Merry!"

There was no response.

"Merry!" he said in a small voice again, but again Merry did not stir. He just hung there with his head pressed against the back of the Uruk's neck and his mouth hanging open slightly. In a heart-stopping moment Pippin wondered if he was actually dead, but after a moment he did see Merry's jaw twitch. He was still alive.

He was about to try and call out again when the new leader of the Uruk-Hai at the front of the column stopped and raised a fist sharply, signalling all the other Uruks to stop as well. Pippin's attention was drawn to the front of the line. The new leader was just as ugly as the last, which deep mottled reddish-brown skin that looked like he was completely covered in bruises coupled with some horrendous disease. He also had long black hair and large fangs projecting from his mouth. All the Uruk-Hai looked like that though – the only reason Pippin could tell him apart from the others was that he was leading the party.

Pippin knew nothing about the Uruks really, but he thought he had managed to pick up the name of this leader from the initial talk as to who would be the next later. His name was Uglúk and while he was not as vicious or powerful as Lurtz he was clearly still a tough customer.

The reason he had called a halt to the party became apparent a moment later. They were in a long, shallow ravine, and at the front, from behind several large boulders where they had been sheltering from the Sun, came figures. Smaller and squatter than the Uruk-Hai, but with similar wrinkled, dark and repulsive skin. Regular orcs and about half a dozen of them.

None of them looked happy about having to come out in the sun, but the lead orc, a slouching figure with a low-hanging jaw and a hooked nose, glared up at Uglúk. This one was called Grishnáhk and it was quite clear that he fancied himself as quite important.

"You're late," he declared, wrinkling his nose. "Our master grows impatient. He wants the Shire-rats now!"

Pippin had no idea who this master they were referring to was but he could make a couple of educated guesses, neither of which appealed to him. Evidently the lead Uruk knew full well, and he also didn't seem to think much of Grishnáhk. He looked down at the regular orc as if he were a piece of slime. "I don't take orders from orc maggots!" he growled, taking a threatening step forwards. He had a bullwhip in one hand that he had threatened to use on the Hobbits earlier if they tried to struggle while they were restrained.

Grishnáhk stepped backwards with a snarl on his face and appeared to try and size Uglúk up, balking a little bit when he realised how much taller the Uruk-Hai was. The other orcs looked a little nervous themselves. Evidently they had heard how powerful their larger counterparts could be and felt no desire to try and get on the wrong side of them.

"Saruman will have his prize!" Uglúk declared, jabbing a finger in Grishnáhk's direction threateningly, before turning it around to jab his thumb into his own chest. "_We_ will deliver them."

Uglúk and Grishnahk glared at one another for several moments before the latter backed down slightly, knowing that he was outmatched by the more powerful orc. The Uruk's snarl twisted into a knowing and triumphant grin, demonstrating that he had known this would be the outcome all along, before he turned back and stepped in amongst the rest of his troops, both in order to inspect them and to check on the two prisoners.

When he was out of earshot, Grishnáhk let off a hissing, rasping noise from his mouth that was clearly meant to be a derogatory gesture amongst the orcs in order to mock Uglúk now that his back was turned. Another Uruk near the front of the line turned and snarled at the offending orc. Apparently none of them held much more than contempt for their smaller counterparts.

The orcs stepped backwards, subdued and not a little sullen. Uglúk ignored them completely and began to push his way through the crowd towards where the two Hobbits were hanging.

Despite the approaching ugly brute, Pippin's attention was diverted back to Merry. Merry appeared to be stirring slightly and ragged breaths were coming out of his mouth as his head hang back like some kind of rag doll. "Merry!" Pippin called across to him, no longer caring if he got into trouble with the other Uruk-Hai. "Merry. Wake up!"

Merry still made no indication that he was hearing what was going on so Pippin looked wildly around for someone who could help based mostly on instinct alone. He very much doubted that any of their captors would be in the least bit concerned by what was going on. However, one of the Uruk-Hai standing right next to him had lifted a waterskin to his fangs and was taking a swig of the contents, so Pippin decided to try anyway.

"My friend is sick!" he exclaimed, catching the Uruk's attention. The creature turned to glare at him and bared its teeth with a ferocious snarl right in front of Pippin's face, and Pippin was very disconcerted that he couldn't even make out the Uruk's eyes from under the holes of its helmet. Despite the display of aggression though, Pippin was not ready to back down.

"He needs water!" Pippin went on, indicating the waterskin with a flick of his eyes, giving the Uruk an imploring look. "Please!"

He had absolutely no idea if this was going to do any good or not. He didn't think these Uruks had a speck of goodness within their entire bodies but nevertheless he was trying to appeal to any goodness that might exist, however small. All he seemed to be met with though, was the vicious looking canines in his face.

"Sick is he?" Uglúk smirked as he stepped closer. Pippin's attention immediately diverted to him with an attempt at an imploring expression, and the situation was grabbing the interest of all the other Uruks gathered in the double-column. Uglúk pointed a hand at Merry and yelled, "Give 'im some medicine, boys!"

For a split second, Pippin was filled with hope, but that changed instantly when there was a cacophony from the other Uruks, as if they seemed to find this funny. The Uruk who had been snarling at him turned around and approached Merry, seizing him by the chin and opening his mouth wide, lifting up a large bottle with an unstoppered neck and tipping the contents into Merry's mouth.

The only problem was that the liquid appeared to be something viscous and brown that Pippin couldn't identify and the Uruk made absolutely no attempt to be gentle. Not only did copious amounts of the stuff pour down the sides of Merry's face but what did go into his mouth immediately went "down the wrong hole." Pippin watched in horror as Merry abruptly began choking and retching and spluttering, but the Uruk ignored him and kept pouring.

"Stop it!" Pippin shouted.

Merry thrashed his head and looked like he was about to hurl when the Uruk relented after about five seconds. All the other Uruks were jeering and shouting and bellowing with laughter at the simple cruelty of this small action. "Can't take his draught!" Uglúk roared with laughter, and the rest of the Uruks joined him, including the one who had been doing the pouring, until the ravine was filled with the echoes of the mocking laughs. This was the true nature of the orc. They loved to cause suffering in others, even if it was mild. They had been given orders not to harm the Hobbits physically, but they still found ways to get their kicks.

"Leave him alone!" Pippin shouted, jerking valiantly in his bonds and getting nowhere, while Merry just hung there and gasped for breath, blood still dripping from the wound on his face.

"Why?" Uglúk asked abruptly, silencing all activity in the ravine as he stepped closer, jabbing a finger in Pippin's face. "You want some? Huh?"

Pippin didn't give a physical answer but the sudden fear that appeared in his eyes was all the answer that Uglúk needed.

"Then keep your mouth shut," he sneered at the Hobbit, fixing his fierce eyes with Pippin's terrified ones for a second, before turning back to head to the front once more, the Uruks around him snarling to themselves and falling back into their ranks.

Pippin's focus immediately turned back to his friend. "Merry?" he asked, full of concern.

Merry looked blearily across at him, conscious and awake now and managed to muster a bleary, "Hullo, Pip," across to his fellow captive. There was still large amounts of brown Uruk-draught or whatever that stuff was dripping down his chin and he looked dazed as he struggled to get his breath back.

"You're hurt?" Pippin asked, glancing at the wound on Merry's face.

"I'm fine," Merry breathed, the traces of a bravado-filled smile appearing on his face. "It was just an act."

"An act?" Pippin blinked, staring at Merry incredulously.

"See," Merry seemed to be attempting to grin, but it was coming out rather lopsided. "Fooled you too."

Pippin just stared at him for several moments, seemingly unsure whether to smile or just looked confused and apparently attempting to do both at the same time. Of course, what Merry was saying was not true at all. It had not been an act – he had been very much out of it when he had been stirred by the liquid pouring down his throat. But the last thing Merry wanted to do was make Pippin worry about him. Both of them had been troublemakers in the Shire, but Merry had always felt somewhat responsible for the slightly younger Pippin regardless and now was certainly no exception.

"Don't worry about me, Pippin," he murmured, resting his forehead against the helmet of the Uruk-Hai he was hanging from once again, trying to shake off the weariness that was scouring through his small body.

Pippin turned his attention back to the front, where one of the Uruks had started to sniff the air, a look of wariness on his face.

Uglúk noticed it too and he quickly stepped over and said, "What is it? What do you smell?"

The Uruk-Hai turned to face his leader and growled, "Man flesh." This caused Uglúk to glance sharply over his shoulder. But before he could say anything else, the other Uruk continued with, "And… something else. A different smell! Something I don't recognise!"

"It could be that woman!" cried another of the Uruks nearby and there was a slight tremor of fear in his voice. Not many of the Uruks that had escaped the battle had seen Mervamon, as most of those that has seen her had been mown down by her sword or snake arm moments later, but this Uruk had been one of the lucky ones. "She fought like a Demon. Like a wild thing! And her sword was as big as we are!"

"We slew the powerful man!" Uglúk snorted. "We can slay this demon women I've been hearing about. But all their group were fierce fighters and we have our orders. We have to get these prisoners to Saruman as soon as possible! We can't let them catch up with us! Let's move!" And he turned and charged further down the ravine, the orcs under the command of Grishnáhk falling into step beside the front running Uruks as they all began to thunder forwards once again.

Pippin was confused. "Man flesh" had been the bit that he understood. That might mean that Aragorn was not far away and could be, at this very moment, closing in on the party of Uruks. But the talk of this woman was completely new to him. There hadn't been any women in their Fellowship – they had all been guys. So what were the Uruks talking about?

"Your forces were taken down by a female?" he heard Grishnáhk taunt from the front. "Are you sure you are worthy of the title of the 'Fighting Uruk-Hai' that you brag so much about?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, orc scum!" roared the Uruk who had mentioned the woman. "This wasn't some puny Man female. She was a monster! Her entire arm was one big snake!"

Pippin's eyes nearly boggled out of his skull at the prospect of that idea. Had the Uruk been delusional? That seemed like the only reasonable explanation to him.

Regardless, he needed to think quickly. If Aragorn was tracking them then he wouldn't have any proof the Hobbits were still alive if they were being carried, so he needed to do something that would urge them of, let them know that they were alright for the time being.

Hurriedly, he attempted to reach his mouth down and grasped the leaf-shaped brooch of his Elven cloak between his teeth and yanked upwards. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to eventually tug it away from where it was supposed to be and, hoping none of the Uruks noticed, spat it out of his mouth to land on the grass with a slight clink.

But Pippin had already lost sight of it before it hit the ground and he could only hope that as the Uruks thundered on and many of them trod on the little Elven brooch, that anybody who was following their group would find his little clue. It seemed that for the moment, the fate of both Merry and Pippin was out of their own hands.

* * *

Such was the speed that the Uruk-Hai were travelling at, they had been able to gain a good lead on the group during the brief period where they had stopped to heal Boromir and discuss their next move. They were more than half a day ahead by this point already, and it seemed to most of the party that they were leaving no sign of their passing.

And yet Aragorn seemed to be steering them in the right direction, though they only had his word for it. Every now and then he would call a halt and press his ear against the ground as if listening for something beneath, and every time he did this he would spring up a moment later and continue running, occasionally adjusting his course slightly but always with certainty.

"They have picked up their speed," he said with a sigh after the most recent of these. He sat up and licked the tip of his thumb and lifted it up slightly, noting that the wind was blowing from behind them in the direction that they were currently going. "We're upwind of them. They know now that we are pursuing. Quick! We must make haste!"

And he vaulted over a rock and continued his headlong dash across the turf. The others were all not far behind him straight away.

"He can really hear their footsteps when he does that, kyu?" Cutemon asked. "I didn't think human ears were that good."

"Aragorn is a Ranger," Legolas related to them. "He has lived all his life in the wild – he is an expert on all forms of tracking and path-finding. Trust him. He will lead us right."

"Maybe I can help too, kyu," Cutemon cried, standing up on top of Mervamon's head and placing his hands over the earmuff-like projections he wore on either side of his head. The two huge ear-like projections on top of his head waggled in the air of their own accord for a couple of seconds as he shut his eyes in concentration. Then he pointed forwards and said, "Yes, I hear something too, kyu! A rumbling noise coming from that direction, kyu! Could that be them?"

"It could very well be," Aragorn shouted back.

Cutemon's smile slipped. "They sounded awfully far away, kyu."

"All the more reason for us to pick up our pace," Aragorn related, doing just that. Mervamon had long since gone past being impressed by the man's stamina and she was almost going into awed. And Legolas was much the same.

Cutemon sighed. "I hope this is all worth it, kyu," he muttered.

"You're not even doing the running," Gimli griped. "When is it my turn to hitch a lift? Hoo, on second thoughts, maybe I should stop talking." He set his face into a stone-like mask and stoically ran on, ignoring his obvious fatigue to the best of his ability and doing his best to keep up with the swifter runners at the front.

He actually succeeded in running past Mervamon, but that was mostly because the Digimon had slowed down and was looking over her shoulder at the Man who was bringing up the rear of the party.

Boromir was lagging.

And he was beginning to do some by quite some margin. Each time that Aragorn had called a halt, Boromir had been some distance behind and had had to do his best to catch up before they set off again. The Man, who might normally be in the prime of health and could possibly have run like this just as well as Aragorn, was looking extremely pale by this point and his breath was just mere wheezing gasps.

"Boromir, are you alright?" It was a needless question and Mervamon knew it. She could see full well that Boromir was most certainly _not_ alright. But the question did attract the attention of the rest of the group as the Digimon drew to a halt and allowed the Gondorian to stagger to a halt next to her and throw out a hand to grab her by the arm and steady himself.

"Yes," Boromir nodded firmly, his chest heaving. "I am fine. I can continue. Let's keep… ungh…" He staggered slightly as he tried to push himself off Mervamon and keep running, collapsing sideways until he was leaning against her with his shoulder with most of his body weight. The tall Digimon hurriedly attempted to steady him, but moments after she did so, Boromir pushed her arms away and stood apart. He was wavering on the spot and looked barely able to stand, but his expression was still defiant even though it was clear he was exhausted.

"Do not concern yourself with me," Boromir gasped. "I am fine. We must… we must… get after them. We can't let them… Merry and Pippin…" He wavered again and placed fingers to his temples, as if trying to pinch the wooziness out of his brain.

Mervamon bit her lip. Boromir should really have had longer to rest before they began this headlong dash across the world. His wounds might have healed but his body itself was still recovering. Humans, not even the toughest of them, were as durable and quick-healing as a Digimon, which meant that he was vastly overexerting himself. The fact that he had gotten this far was a commendable feat in and of itself.

But Mervamon doubted that he would be able to go much further.

The Digimon glanced across at Aragorn and could quite clearly see he was in an agony of concern. They were losing ground on the Uruks with every second they stood there and therefore losing their chances of getting to Merry and Pippin in time but surely they could not simply abandon one of their own out here either. Yet it was quite plain to see that Boromir needed rest and he wasn't going to get that if they didn't stop.

None of the others knew these lands as Aragorn did, and since he was the one doing the tracking, this was quite the problem.

"Come on!" Boromir stepped forwards, forcing himself into a jog and trying to pick up speed. "We cannot just stand here. We've got to go… The Hobbits need us."

He overtook the others and they watched him run on for several more metres before he staggered and threw out a hand to catch himself on a nearby boulder, leaning heavily against it and looking for all the world like he was trying to weld himself to it.

Aragorn stepped closer and placed a hand on Boromir's shoulder. "Boromir, you must rest. It will not be long before you collapse at this rate and overexert yourself too much and you could even kill yourself."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Boromir gasped. "How can I rest when the Hobbits are in peril. I have to find them and… rectify my failure."

"You will be no use to the Hobbits if you are unable to lift your shield if we do catch up with the Uruks," Legolas pointed out.

"I owe it to them," Boromir growled stubbornly. "I have to… have to…"

"Boromir," said Mervamon, stepping closer to the sweating, exhausted Gondorian. "You're a man of honour, right?"

"Of course," Boromir blinked in bemusement. "Honour is one of the most valuable commodities for a Man to possess."

"Then perhaps it would be better if you were unconscious for this," Mervamon said wryly. And, without warning, the Medullia lunged outwards and struck Boromir across the forehead with its blunt nose. The already fatigued Man slumped against the rock and Mervamon stepped forwards to catch him in her one true arm.

As she struck, the hands of the others had immediately flown to their weapons, but then they all stared, frozen, as they watched Mervamon bodily lift the heavy looking man and sling him onto her shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes. A rather light looking sack of potatoes from the ease with which she did it.

"Sorry about that," she muttered. "But we're not leaving him here so I'll carry him if I have too. But I believe he would find the experience rather embarrassing if he were awake so perhaps it will be better for him to be out of it for a while. His body can recover on its own this way."

The three others relaxed their stance again after this. "You're strong," Gimli noted, nodding at the limp man slung across her shoulders.

"You think he's heavy?" Mervamon chuckled. "I had to carry Ballistamon once – he was much heavier than this guy. Now, shall we go?"

"You are most versatile indeed, Mervamon," Aragorn noted. "And yes. We're losing time."

He quickly turned to hurry away once again and, hefting the unconscious Boromir into a better position on her shoulder, Mervamon set out after him. Legolas and Gimli exchanged a brief look of mild bemusement before they too continued running.

"I don't suppose you have room on your other shoulder for another passenger," huffed Gimli as he spurred himself on. "I wouldn't even be too proud to have to be knocked out at this rate."

"Sorry," Mervamon chuckled. "But I think I'll save my shoulder space for the one who really needs it."

_Just who is this person?_ Legolas thought to himself as he pelted past her and caught up with Aragorn in the front. And so the four of them continued their run, one of them now carrying two passengers. But none of them knowing what lay in store for them if and when they finally caught up with their quarry.

* * *

And pull back from them, high into the sky and proceed northwest for many, many leagues, past the rolling yellow plains, a few makeshift villagers and a couple of rivers, and you would reach an enormous black tower standing erect at the foot of a mountain range and surrounded by a large circular wall to keep unwanted guests out. The tower of Orthanc, its four enormous spires stretching upwards as if trying to skewer the clouds.

This was the final destination of the Uruk-Hai that were carrying Merry and Pippin, for it was here that Saruman the White, the former leader of the White Council, dwelt. The Wizard, now corrupted by evil, had spent a large portion of the day with his claw-like hand hovering over the Palantír and scanning Middle Earth for any signs of what the mysterious disturbance that he has sensed the other day might have been.

He had been able to pick up a couple of things but there was a limit even to what a Palantír could do for you. It certainly helped if you knew what you were looking for, and it helped even more if you knew where it was. Saruman had no clue about either, so he had been left effectively scrying everywhere, trying to find some clues.

What he had been able to find had confused him. He had seen some sort of red lizard creature wandering across a grassy plain, some kind of strange wolf fleeing from a pair of Rohan's horseman, and what looked like a young girl with a large pink flower on her head wondering lost through a forest, among other things. But they had all been brief flashes and he had been able to make little details or sense out of anything.

Eventually he had resolved to wait. This mystery would make itself clear to him eventually, he knew. So he had turned his attention to the Uruks who had attacked the Fellowship. He had seen brief glimpses of one of said Fellowship – the Gondorian – with three arrows planted in his chest and he had seen enough to be satisfied that the Uruk-Hai were now bringing their prisoners back to him.

It would not be long now, he was sure of it. Not long until he had possession of the Halflings. And then, the One Ring.

He felt a shudder of anticipation at the thought of the power it could bring him. Yes, Saruman might now be Sauron's puppet, but that didn't mean he didn't have hopes, ambitions and ideals for the future. And the idea of possessing the Ring, maybe even casting Sauron down with it… Well, that certainly seemed very appealing to his now-thoroughly-twisted mind.

But for now he had other things to focus on, such as accelerating his warfront. Things were going well it seemed, and he took a walk through the extensive pit systems that the orcs he now had in his service had dug, makeshift wooden bridges and walkways spanning its lengths and breadths and allowing Saruman easy access to all areas to check on the progress of his numerous minions, who were growing in number all the time.

More Uruk-Hai were being pulled out of the earth at a constant rate, roughly one of them being pulled from the mud roughly every thirty seconds. The orcs in charge of this operation were quick and efficient and by this point they had had plenty of practice, wielding the dark magic that Saruman had instructed them in to give rise to the new race of monsters and set them ready for war almost immediately. The air was filled with the snarls and growls of awakening Uruk-Hai, just as it was equally filled with smoke, sparks and rasping cries of the orcs in their own guttural language.

There was a hiss of rapidly cooling metal as another orc plunged a newly created sword into a pail of water, while others were poured molten slag around others to heat them up. The noises of hammers ringing on the forges was a near constant beat as helmets and breastplates were battered into shape and various clubs, swords and other vicious looking instruments of death were churned out at a rate almost as fast as the Uruk-Hai themselves.

There was a crumpling sound from above and Saruman's gaze was drawn to see perhaps the last of Isengard's original trees plummet down into the caverns and crashed into the bottom with a shower of splinters. A swarm of orcs promptly crowded over it to chop it to bits with their axes. Others were already ferrying small logs towards the holes in the walls that lead into the furnaces and tossing them in, keeping the orange glow emanating from within strong and the fires raging.

All in all, it might seem like some like of private view of hell to most people, swarming with wretched creatures of evil and filled with fire and roars and occasionally screams – many of the orcs were not that skilled at labouring and there were more than one cases where one would be on the receiving end of a serious burn. And yet Saruman just stood there with a look of satisfaction on his face, gripping his long, black staff and his lip curling into a smirk at the thought of what these orcs would do to the people of Rohan when his war began.

Things seemed to be coming together for him. Orcs were not the only recruits he had gathered and the Uruks were not the only fighters of his army. He had plenty of war-worthy orcs themselves, but he also now had a very large number of wargs. The large bear-like wolves snapped and growled at one another constantly and were kept under the watch of one of Saruman's main orc Captains, who had introduced himself as Sharku – an expert Warg rider and commander. Saruman could see him now, standing over the Warg pen and leering in as the wolves clawed and bit at one another.

He claimed that keeping them as worked up as possible between conflicts made them all the more deadly and eager to fight on the field itself and Saruman had seen nothing yet to indicate that this wasn't true.

There was a raucous cawing noise and several enormous crows swooped in overhead, observing events with greedy black eyes as if scanning for corpses. These were the Crébain, who served as scouts, messengers and spies for Saruman, and who gladly joined at the prospect of a war as they knew that when each battle ended there would be a banquet of fresh carrion for each of them wherever Isengard's armies spread.

And speaking of allies, another group of associates would soon be arriving, and Saruman would be there to greet them. But, as he watched more and more Uruks being pulled from the pits, he announced, "I want them armed and outfitted with their armour within two weeks," to the orc captain that he knew was standing next to him. "It has become more necessary than ever that we make haste with our invasion. They must be ready to march on Rohan within a fortnight.

"But, my Lord Saruman," protested the orc in a thick voice. "There are too many of them. Our armorers cannot keep up with the pace with which they are being created. And we're running low on resources. We're down to the last tree and after that we're out of fuel for the furnaces."

"Fool," Saruman turned to him with a harsh glare. "Look out to the east," he pointed with his four-pronged staff. From their position, they had a vantage point out over the top of the wall that surrounded the fortress. "What do you see?"

"More mountains and… and that forest," the orc replied.

"Exactly," Saruman nodded. "The Forest of Fangorn. It sits there with its trees right next to our walls and you claim that we are running low on fuel? Take your axes and give the fires more sustenance with those trees."

"Yes, my lord," the orc responded, a leer growing on his face. "It shall be as you wish."

"And make haste on the construction of the dam," Saruman added. "I want that stream to be blocked fully by tomorrow. We must work around the clock to build up our army. Rohan is already on its last legs, but we must ensure that those legs fold before they can regroup. This world will burn as the trees have burned. And then, you can feast on the flesh of Man and Beast alike."

The orc let loose something that almost sounded like a cackle of anticipation as he hurried off to do as the White Wizard instructed. Saruman strode out across the walkway and back towards his tower, satisfied with the progress they were making. With Sauron building up his armies to the South and preparing to march on Gondor, Saruman knew he had to be ready now. They would trap the Southern Kingdoms in a vice, and draw their men to opposite fronts. And divided, they would fall.

And Saruman wanted to make sure he was ready even before Sauron was. That would most certainly please the Great Eye and the Men of the West would soon be crushed.

But not _all_ of the Men of the West would suffer under the boot of Saruman. Some Men he could use to his advantage. And that was what he was going to try now. As he approached the tower, he could quite easily make out the small huddle of Men at the base of the stairs.

Compared to the cultured Men from Rohan and Gondor, these Men were very different – much more ragged, unkempt and generally filthy looking. They all had huge shabby beards and scruffy long hair that made it look like they were wearing some kind of mane around their faces. They were armed with crewd wooden weapons like sharpened stakes that seemed to function as spears and other makeshift axe-like weapons. A couple of them had knives too – proper metal knives, which were a rarity among their kind.

The Men was Dunlendings. As their name might suggest, they came from Dunland – the same place as the Crébain and a large expanse of hills and rugged countryside, mostly rocky and sparse of life, except for a few small forests. These men were _not_ civilised – they were wild. They lived in caves at best, but the fact that they had been surviving there for many years, since before even the Men of Númenór came to these areas, made them a tough and hardy race. They were all strong and powerful – they had to be to hunt the food that they needed to stay alive.

And Saruman was planning to make a potential ally out of them in the fight against Rohan. The enmity between the Dunlendings and the Rohan warriors extended as far back as could be remembered. In fact, the year that Saruman had first settled in Isengard, had been the year that a massive Dunlending invasion of Rohan had finally been repelled by the Rohirrim. The Dunlendings had even been able to seize Edoras and the throne and kill the mighty King Helm Hammerhand, before finally being defeated.

"Ah, Vándr," Saruman nodded to the man at the front, a tall individual with a slouch and matted black hair that merged with his beard. "Welcome to Isengard. Are these all the warriors you brought with you?"

"No," Vándr said in a thick, deep voice. "I have many more waiting outside the gates. We have yet to hear the full extent of your offer and only when we do will we make a decision."

"Most wise," Saruman chuckled with a mildly piercing stare. "But perhaps it would be better if you and I could speak without the company of your fellow soldiers. As leader of the Dunlendings, I would speak to you and you alone."

Vándr looked suspicious at the notion. "I have heard of your powers, White Wizard. What is to stop you from blasting me to pieces once I am alone?"

Saruman actually laughed and fixed the leader of the Wild Men with his fierce eyes and said, "If I wanted you dead, Vándr, I would, as you so eloquently put it, "blast you to pieces" right here along with the rest of your group. There would be little you could do to stop me. In fact, there would be nothing."

The other Wild Men looked nervous at the proposition and looked to their leader for guidance. But before he could say anything Saruman added, "But I did not summon you here for that. I need your armies and therefore I will need the support of their leader. Come, let us step inside so we can negotiate."

Vándr nodded and followed the White Wizard inside. And not just because Saruman had given him sound arguments and reassurance in a strangely morbid fashion, but also because he was almost physically compelled to without realising it. Saruman's voice was one of his main sources of power. Merely hearing it was practically enough to get even the most wary and superstitious of men, as these Dunlendings were, to listen to him.

* * *

They ascended the stairs into the tower and silently strode up several more flight until they reached Saruman's throne room, where the Palantír sat on its pedestal at the centre. As Saruman turned and settled on the obsidian chair set into the wall he laid his staff to one side and rested his hands in his lap.

"I will hear you out," Vandr said as he stood before the Palantír. "I have gathered many of my people as your Crébain spies requested me to. What is it that you want us to do?"

"Simple really," Saruman said silkily. "I want you armies to fight for me. The world is changing. Even you, who dwell in the caves of the most remote of places, must be realising this. Darkness is stirring in the land of Mordor, and the Dark Lord Sauron is rising to power once again."

"So it is true?" Vándr asked. "There were rumours amongst my people of it but that is all they were."

"It is very true," Saruman replied. "His armies are building, his fortress is rebuilt, the Nine are now abroad once more in the lands. And soon, war will be coming to all the lands of Middle Earth from Gondor up to the Mountains of the North. And sooner or later, everyone must choose their side."

"But I was under the impression that you were on the side of Rohan's people," Vándr growled.

"Once," Saruman smirked. "Yes, once. But those times have passed. I have had my eyes opened, so to speak. I have seen things – many things. And I know that against Sauron and his rapidly growing armies there will be no chance of victory to any to stands in their way. His power grows daily, in both strength of force and strength of self. The darkness is coming, Vándr, and soon it will engulf all of Middle Earth. I ask you, what is the harm in joining the winning side to ensure your own survival? It is the obvious course to take."

"So you have thrown your lot in with the Dark Lord, eh?" Vándr sneered.

"Indeed I have," Saruman smiled thinly. "And with me by his side, I can tell you now that he is unstoppable, for I am building my own army and my own power. And I want you to be a part of it."

"And why should I do that?" Vándr asked. "We have no business with anyone in the hills. We are no threat to Sauron?"

"That will not matter to him," chuckled Saruman. "In the view of the Dark Lord, you are either with him or against him, and if you are not the former then you will be the latter, no matter how far you try to run, how well you hide or how much to wish that you weren't. Once Gondor and Rohan fall, he will more than likely come for you next. Unless, of course, you join him."

Vándr said nothing for a moment, digesting this information. Saruman could see that he was already getting through to the Man, but he knew full well what the icing of the proverbial cake would be. And he also knew that it had occurred to Vándr as well.

"Join me now," Saruman sneered. "And you can have what you desire. Everything that you desire. I know that your people wish for vengeance on the people of Rohan. They drove you to the sparser lands of Dunland when they first settled there didn't they, stealing your lands and forcing you to adapt to survive."

Vándr growled under his breath and Saruman ploughed on, knowing he was getting through to him.

"Over the years, your people have constantly been leading assaults on the borders of Rohan across the Fords of Isen. I have seen you. Ever since your last great incursion into Rohan failed many years ago you have attempted many times to drive them out with only marginal success. You are a scattered folk now, with only a fraction of the power you once had. But… I can help you gain what you desire. With my own army."

"Your own army?" Vándr questioned. "Those orcs? Filthy creatures, the lot of them."

"I am not denying that," Saruman admitted. "But they do serve their purposes. Nevertheless it is not orcs of which I speak, but of my own creations – a crossbreed I devised from blending the body of an orc with the body of a Man, with all the best qualities of both. They are the fighting Uruk-Hai, and with them under my command my campaign against Rohan has already begun."

"How so?"

"My Uruks have been raiding the borders of Rohan as you once did," Saruman smirked. "The Rohirrim were unprepared from their aggression, their strength and their discipline but fought with spirited resistance all the same. Nevertheless, their outer defences across the borders have all but been broken already and now my armies able to roam across Rohan into is undefended villages. The slaughter has already begun."

Vándr smirked as well. "The straw-heads are getting what they deserve then," he said, using the mocking name that the Wild Men used to describe the Rohirrim due to the large number of warriors who were also blond. "They forced us into exile and out of the lands we owned."

"Indeed," Saruman nodded. "But now they are weak. Weaker than they have ever been. Not only are my Uruk-Hai tearing through their defensive lines, but I also have an ally in the King's court, who is channelling my power into the King himself, weakening him and bending him to my will. It won't be long now before I gain complete mastery over King Théoden himself. Rohan will soon have no defences left to fall back on. Not even their great fortresses will be able to keep us out. I breed hundreds more Uruk-Hai every day, while they die and receive no reinforcements. They are crumbling. And now is your chance to take back what you deserve. Join us and you and your warriors will be both spared the wrath of Sauron and be a part of the final destruction of the Horse-masters."

Evidently Vándr very much liked the sound of this, a slow grin appearing over his face as he thought of the consequences. Quite frankly, he did not see either how the Rohirrim could pull out a victory if everything Saruman said was true.

Perhaps this was indeed the chance he was looking for.

"And," Saruman added for the final touches. "Sauron's own armies are growing exponentially every day. His own armies are already advancing on Gondor to the South. The armies of the Two Towers, Orthanc and Barad-dûr, will crush the Men of the West beneath our fists and sheer weight of numbers if nothing else. Now, I ask you again. Will… you… join us?"

Vándr was nodding his head vigorously already by this point, both due to the immense anticipation he was feeling and due to the coercion that Saruman's voice itself was putting on him.

"We will fight for you," he nodded, showing his much blackened teeth with his vicious grin.

"Swear it," Saruman said immediately.

Without hesitation, Vándr drew his knife from the sheath on his belt and held it up for a moment. His face turned into a grimace and he gritted his teeth as he slowly and deliberately placed the edge of the knife blade and against the palm of his other hand and, with excruciating slowness and deliberation he pushed it in and drew the blade downwards. Saruman watched with terrible fascination and immense satisfaction until Vándr drew his blade away and clenched his fist to hide the deep wound he had just drawn in himself.

The Wild Men were a barbaric people. To them, there was nothing remotely primitive or disturbing about this self-mutilation. Vándr gritted his teeth and gave Saruman a fierce look as little rivulets of blood began to seep through his fingers and run down the back of his hand.

"We will die… for Saruman," he confirmed, his savage grin slowly returning to his face.

Saruman nodded. Now with the orcs, the Wargs and the Wild Men behind him, it seemed that there was little that could stand in his way. And yet he had still not finished his designs. Now he had to go out and speak to the rest of the Wild Men and get them to follow their leader, but after that, he had some… devising to do. There was, after all, more than one advantage to industry to mass production of weapons. You could also get larger and much, much more powerful… devices.

* * *

And yet Saruman was completely oblivious to the presence of two small creatures that were currently making their way through his pits down below and doing their best not to get noticed.

"Slow down would you?" the second Bombmon glowered at his counterpart as they hopped through a thin crevice. "Do you want to be seen?"

"So what if we _are_ seen?" the first Bombmon crowed as he came to a stop and waited for the other to catch up. "If they come near us we can just blow their faces in."

"And then what?" Bombmon-2 asked petulantly. "Exploding in an underground place like this is a bad idea alone, but surrounded by all of these creatures. We might be able to blow a few of them up but sooner or later we will run out of steam. And from what I can see, they're not."

He indicated with his eyes and the two of them peered around the wall, watching as a pair of the orcs pulled what looked like a huge ball of mud away from a wall, but when the mud began writhing and growling they watched in revulsion as the orcs peeled it aside to reveal the tall, fanged Uruk-Hai within.

"Ugh," retched Bombmon-1. "What _are_ these things anyway?"

"The heck if I know," Bombmon-2 muttered. "But all the more reason that we get out of this place while we can 'cause these guys do _not_ look friendly."

"Can't argue with that," Bombmon-1 sighed.

"And we don't have any back-up," Bombmon-2 pointed out. "If Greymon was here then yeah, maybe we could bust out of this place. But he's not, so we can't."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it. So, what's the plan?"

"You think I have a plan? The only plan I have is to find an exit and leave."

"Great plan," Bombmon-1 rolled its eyes. "Well, we're in a cave aren't we? Let's just find the door."

"Yeah, I don't think we're in a cave," Bombmon-2 muttered, looking upwards. As Bombmon-1 followed its gaze, it realised that its partner was probably right. They could see the sky above them through a large hole in the roof and there appeared to be quite a few of them dotted around the place.

"I think we're in some kind of cavern," Bombmon-2 went on. "Look, there's a bunch of wooden walkways and stuff that lead up to the top. That means that well… the only way is up."

"Oh wonderful," Bombmon-1 muttered. "And how exactly are we meant to get up one of those things without being spotted? We might be small but there's no way that they're not going to notice a couple of little strangers bouncing up there in plain sight of everything."

"First you're overconfident and now you're cynical," Bombmon-2 sighed. "Make up your mind."

"Who are you calling cynical?" Bombmon-1 fumed. Quite literally actually, as the fuse on the top of its head suddenly lit. Bombmon-2 almost yelped and leapt at the other, knocking it over and extinguishing the fuse by bouncing on it a couple of times.

"Are you out of your mind?" it hissed. "You could bring the wall down on us if you blow here."

"Right yeah, fine," Bombmon-1 pushed itself upwards. "Sorry. Anyway, how are we meant to get out of here?"

"I don't know. Do I have to think of everything?"

"Fine. Maybe we can get one of those birds to fly us out or something."

"I don't like the look of those birds. They look a bit like they're waiting for something to happen."

"And I was actually being sarcastic. Like we're going to get a lift from a bird. Most Digimon don't even want to go near us and I don't even think those are Digimon."

"I don't think anything here besides us is a Digimon," Bombmon-2 grimaced as they saw another Uruk being pulled out of the muck. "And I certainly don't think that I was born like that. But… well… maybe we _can_ get a lift out of here."

"What on a bird?"

"No, not on a bird, you idiot. But maybe we can, I dunno… stow away on one of these creatures. Maybe if we can find a bag or… or a bucket and hide in it then somebody could carry us out of the pit and wouldn't even know that we were there."

Bombmon-1 stared at its buddy for a moment and then let off a small sigh. "Well it's better than anything I can come up with but still, I get the feeling that this could end very… very badly."

"Well if it does… _then_ we can do for the blow-up-in-peoples-faces approach. Sound good?"

"Hell yeah!"

* * *

Yeah, like I said, not a whole lot happened in this chapter to advance the story. This chapter contains one of the last excerpts that will be taken out from the movies directly thanks to that scene with Merry and Pippin but still I hope that you enjoyed the conversation between Saruman and the leader of Wild Men Vándr. I invented his name, but if you're curious then I can say that it is actually the Norse word for 'Wicked.' So sue me – I've been watching the Avengers saga recently and Thor was on my mind. XD

Well, see ya when I see ya.

* * *

Next time…

Gandalf and Shoutmon arrive at the dark Forest of Fangorn in order to speak with an old friend of Gandalf's who protects the area. A large and powerful friend. But one of Shoutmon's large and powerful friends is also not very far away.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 12 : Forest Guardians**


	12. Forest Guardians

Oh so sorry, so sorry, so sorry for this late update but things were literally piling up against me for this. Every day seemed to bring up something new to get in the way. Work for a job, dogsitting someone else's dog, driving test, sister having problems with her own car, asked to do many, many things by my parents. Everything just… ugh, it was so frustrating. And to cap it all off, this chapter is mostly another filler before things really get to the point, but still I did like writing it. It introduces two key characters from the books and movies to the saga. I hope you enjoy it and unless I have horrible bad luck (again), I will attempt to pick up the pace of my writing in future.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 12:- Forest Guardians**

* * *

In Deckerdramon's experience a river was a good place to be if you wanted to find other signs of life. All forms of life, even Digimon, required water to survive and even in the Digital World a large number of villages and towns were built around a water source. Therefore, he assumed that the same thing would apply to wherever he was right now, especially since the landscape around him other than the river he was currently on seemed to be rather dry and a bit sparse, despite the rolling plains of grassland on every side.

There was also the fact that a river was an easy way for him to travel as rivers were usually level for the vast majority of their length. Those two reasons were why he was currently in Float Mode and travelling up the course of the river which he had crash-landed next to, pushing himself against the current with his modified tank tracks.

It required very little effort on his part to do this. After all, he was a very large and powerful creature. Pushing himself up a current was something that he could do with little effort against all but the strongest of pulls, like the whirlpool which had sprung out of nowhere in the Gold Land many years ago when facing Olegmon.

Still, Deckerdramon had been travelling up the same river for many hours now and he was beginning to wonder if he should have tried his luck further inland.

During the course of the river he had indeed encountered signs of life – even signs of civilisation. He had passed through what appeared to be some kind of village, similar in design to some of the Digimon villages he had encountered as part of Xros Heart and Blue Flare, except cruder and more makeshift. Many of the dwellings had been made of things like straw and thatch rather than solid wood, stone or other stronger and more durable materials. Even hard baked mud would have made a tougher abode than what he had seen, though he had to say that anybody living there would have been hard pressed to find anything like that in a landscape such as this and they would have had to make do with what they had.

But what caught Deckerdramon's attention more was not the material the buildings where made out of, but rather their condition – they were all completely ruined. Some had been partially pulled down and flattened as if trampled by dozens of stamping feet. Others had been set on fire with varying results. Some of them were still burning slowly. Some of them were still standing albeit barely. Others were only recognisable as having once been a building due to the charred lump of ash on the ground where they had once stood.

Deckerdramon had seen three of these villages situated alongside the river and in each one the story was the same. There could be no question that the village had been attacked by something. Something violent, aggressive and very thorough. In each village Deckerdramon had passed there had been no signs of life remaining, either of the attackers or of the previous occupants, but the giant mechanoid alligator had seen plenty of signs of death.

Deckerdramon was now one-hundred percent sure that he was not in the Digital World anymore for two reasons. Firstly, attacks such as this would not have gone unnoticed by the members of Xros Heart. King Shoutmon had been adamant that they do whatever it took to ensure they responded to threats the moment they arose, so he had done things like place sensors in vulnerable looking villages that would go off in there was an attack, had some subjects posted in most villages so they could send messengers quickly, and an extensive network of scouts in the form of flying Digimon that answered only to him and their leader, MailBirdramon. They would definitely have heard of attacks on three villages by now if this were their domain.

And the other clue was the fact that each village had had corpses littered in them. Not only did Digimon not leave corpses behind when they died – they dissipated into data – these corpses were most definitely of humans.

Even battle-hardened Deckerdramon had been repulsed by what he had witnessed at each village. Each death had obviously been extremely violent and probably very painful. The bodies had had limbs twisted at horrible angles or even completely missing, gaping wounds from swords or axes in obvious places, most often on their back, and many of them had arrows embedded in their dead bodies. And some of them… were just piles of bones. As if whatever had attacked the village had decided to eat some of its victims as well.

Deckerdramon was both saddened and revolted by what he witnessed but he knew there was nothing he could do here. He had arrived too late to help the unfortunate innocents and he did not have the time nor the ability to dig them graves. So he merely passed on sadly, but he was becoming more and more wary. It was obvious that wherever he had ended up, there was definitely some kind of evil abroad. And you could never be too careful, even when you were a giant missile-toting crocodilian.

Deckerdramon was not sure how much time passed as he continued northwards up the river, but he kept going well through the night and into the next morning. He wondered how many of his Digimon friends were in the same situation as him, wandering in the wild with no idea where they were or where they were going. Some of the smaller and younger ones might be breaking down with fear at this point.

He needed to press on quickly.

And so he did. And, eventually, he came to the forest.

When he spotted it in the distance, he chuckled to himself. "Excellent," he muttered. "A forest will be a much better place to live than these plains for anybody with any sense. Perhaps I will find more luck beneath the trees." So, he had pressed on with renewed purpose, noting that the river course would lead him straight towards said trees.

As he got closer though he became less sure of his own statement.

Eventually he pulled to a stop completely, his tracks slowing their progress until Deckerdramon and the current pushed against each other with equal force, causing him to sit still in the river. The forest was quite unlike any other that he had ever seen, even in the Digital World. Most forest could be dark of course since the trees blotted out the light with their canopies, but the darkness he could see between those trees was darkness of a whole different level. It was not just there – it was almost foreboding, as if it were alive. The shadows seemed to curdle and lengthen and shorten as if they had wills of their own.

And then there was the trees themselves. Deckerdramon was used to tall living monoliths but these trees were different. Very different. They were rather short in comparison to what he had encountered before, perhaps reaching two stories high at most, and none of them seemed to be straight. Each trunk was bent and twisted around as if the tree had no idea which direction it was meant to be growing in and their roots and branches seemed to stretch out as much as possible in any and every direction, making the trees look less like trees and more like lumps of earth and firewood that had been bent and contorted into weird shapes.

Even Deckerdramon, who had faced countless foes in battle and had enough firepower to obliterate a small village in the space of five seconds, hesitated at the sight of this forest, and wondered if perhaps heading into those trees would be a good move after all.

Especially since he was sure he was sure that some of those trees had shifted position a little bit since he had begun staring at them.

Nevertheless, he quickly quashed the feeling of doubt within him. He had had no luck whatsoever on the open plains so the forest would now be his best bet. "Well," he muttered to himself. "Here goes nothing." And he motored forwards once more, following the course of the river closer and closer to the trees. They remained silent and still as Deckerdramon approached, but he kept his senses tuned just in case. There was something about this forest that was just not… normal.

Eventually he was under the shadows and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The river he was travelling up was now much thinner and Deckerdramon wondered if he was reaching its end, but he pressed on regardless, with trees bunched and packed all around him. There was no breeze now. Next to no sunlight, no birdsong… in fact no sound at all but for the faint rippling of the river and some sort of… slow groaning sound coming from… all around him.

_What have I gotten myself into now?_ Deckerdramon thought as he pushed himself on.

* * *

"WOOOOHOOOOO! YEHEHEHES! THIS TAKES ME BACK!"

Gandalf chuckled at the actions of his fellow passenger. For a noble King of Digimon, Shoutmon wasn't particularly behaving with decorum and grace at the moment. The two of them had been riding through the night, but come the dawn and Gandalf had urged the horse, Shadowfax, to pick up his speed even further and now they were haring across the Plains of Rohan at an incredible speed, and Shadowfax didn't look the least bit tired.

And Shoutmon was currently standing precariously at the base of Shadowfax's neck, supporting himself with a hand on the back of the horse's head, with the other fist raised into the air as he whooped and hollered, clearly enjoying the wild ride across the plains and grinning almost literally from ear to ear.

Shoutmon was, of course, no stranger to riding on larger creatures. Ballistamon had given him lifts for many years and there were numerous times when he had ridden Dorulumon into battle or other dangerous situations during the war and many times afterwards. But mostly since he has assumed the role of King the situation had called for seriousness on his part – he had not had the opportunity recently to just enjoy himself as they pelted along. And though this situation was still a serious one, given he had been separated from his friends and all, Shadowfax' sheer speed had eventually gotten the better of the King and he was really letting rip now.

Shoutmon looked back at the White Wizard and shouted over the rushing wind that Shadowfax was practically producing from his sheer speed. "Doesn't your horse need a rest yet? We've been running for about half a day now haven't we?"

"Shadowfax is more than capable of running for a week without tiring," Gandalf replied, with a hint of pride in his voice. "He is part of a special breed of horses called the Mearas and even among Mearas Shadowfax is the fittest and strongest. He was given the title, the Lord of all Horses by the people who bred him in Rohan."

Shadowfax whinnied, as if he had understood that remark and was thanking them for the praise and, as if to prove what Gandalf had just said he promptly galloped up the side of a steep, rocky incline and bounded right off its summit, sailing out through thin air as if jumping over a giant hurdle and landing with a spray of dirt kicked up from under his hooves but still running almost full pelt. He seemed to take everything in his stride.

"This is awesome!" Shoutmon grinned, his yellow scarves streaming in the slipstream from the horse's run and almost hitting Gandalf in the face. "And you're a pretty good rider. For an old man."

Gandalf actually laughed. "Shadowfax would not allow me to fall unless I wanted to. But I have had quite a bit of experience with horses as I have walked this world for three-thousand lives of Men."

"That long, huh?" Shoutmon blinked. "Yeesh. And I thought Jijimon was old. Still, at least you don't seem to be going senile like he is. Please, don't try opening a door by farting at it."

Gandalf blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Long story," Shoutmon grinned. "Suffice to say we had to get past this large door in a place called the Sand Zone to find a treasure that would help us win the war against the Bagra Army and that was Jijimon's solution to getting past it. He called it a refreshing wind, though none of us saw it like that of course."

"You are a strange one, Shoutmon," Gandalf mused. "As are most of your party by the sound of things. When my own group arrived at the West Gate of Moria, I too had to figure out a way to get past it to continue our journey to Mordor. Farting at it was not one of the things that came to my mind."

"I highly doubt it would have worked," Shoutmon chuckled. "And yeah, I guess you could say we're a strange bunch. Jijimon will probably be somewhere in this world too if what you told me before is right. Perhaps you'll meet him one day. In fact I hope you do, because that would hopefully mean I reunite with him as well as all the others."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "I would be most interested in meeting your companions. I know very little of your world or your friends and to be quite frank I believe you will be an interesting change of pace for me. I have lived for so long that there is little in this world I have not yet encountered or experienced. You Digimon are something new, and to an old man such as myself that is most welcome."

"Especially since we can help you take out that Dark Lord guy, right?"

"Sauron, yes," Gandalf nodded. "You say that you are powerful creatures and while power is not the only thing that will be required against Sauron, it will be most welcome nonetheless."

"Yeah, we are strong," Shoutmon nodded. "Some of us have enough strength to level a small town in half a minute, if that. But that's not all we have. Wisemon is the single smartest guy that I've ever met. Beelzemon can be as silent as a ghost when he wants to be. Sparrowmon can travel faster than the speed of sound and Cutemon can heal wounds that would cause slow and painful deaths with ease."

"Indeed?" Gandalf felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Well then, perhaps we have more hope than I initially realised with you on our side. Galadriel was right. However, even that will not be enough to win… we must set a trap for Sauron. Fortunately, I do have a plan of sorts, but there are many gaps that have yet to be filled. And hopefully one of those gaps will be closed when we reach the end of our current journey."

"Oh really," Shoutmon frowned. "Who is this friend of yours that we're going to meet anyway? You never actually said wh-"

A sudden shadow fell across them and Shoutmon's honed instincts caused an immediate reactions. His microphone was summoned from thin air and his head snapped upwards as his body tensed, taking in the large silhouette that was suddenly above them. He stared at it. For a second he thought it could be MailBirdramon, but it wasn't. It had feathers. But it was, unfortunately, not Beelzemon either because it still had the body of a bird. A very large bird – easily just as big as MailBirdramon himself.

Gandalf reached forwards and patted Shadowfax's neck and the horse drew to a standstill. He then placed a hand on Shoutmon's arm and said, "Stay your staff, Shoutmon. This is a friend."

"It's not a staff. It's a microphone," Shoutmon replied without thinking, but he still remained slightly tense as the bird settled on a large rocky projection nearby. Its body was covered in brown feathers that interlocked smoothly as it folded its wings to its sides. Its feet were adorned with enormous talons that could each rip Shoutmon's head off if they got the opportunity and the viciously hooked beak on the bird's face looked just as formidable. The giant bird fixed Shoutmon with a fierce but calculating stare with a single, large yellow eye, which seemed to be trying to pierce its way into Shoutmon's soul.

Shoutmon stared back without flinching and the bird seemed to appreciate this for some reason, because it nodded at him. It then turned to Gandalf and spoke in a voice that was surprisingly deep – Shoutmon had been expecting a screech for some reason. "I take it that this is the new ally that you mentioned, Gandalf," it said.

"Indeed, he is," Gandalf nodded. "Meet Shoutmon, the Digimon King, and our latest friend in the fight against Sauron."

"King, eh?" the bird turned to give Shoutmon the once-over again. "He does not look like much but I can tell that he has guts and bravery aplenty."

"I have a lot more than that, I can assure you." Shoutmon glared. "Care to test my mettle? I've fought enemies bigger than you."

The bird chuckled wryly. "Spirit too," he said. "I did not wish to offend you, good King. I have no doubt that you are stronger than you look. I have seen it many times before. And it is always nice to meet a fellow monarch."

"Fellow monarch?" Shoutmon blinked. "You're a King too?"

"I prefer the term Lord," the bird replied. "But to all intents and purposes, yes. I am. I am Gwaihir the Windlord, the Lord of the Eagles and Ruler of the Skies."

"Gwaihir is an old companion of mine," Gandalf explained. "We have faced many trials together and he has helped me numerous times in the past. In fact, very recently, Gwaihir rescued me from where I was imprisoned on the tower of Orthanc by the former White Wizard, Saruman. And he bore me again a second time from the peak of a mountain after my fight with the Balrog of Morgoth to Lothlórien, which was where I heard about your imminent arrival to our world."

"And let's not forget the time I rescued you and your companions when you were stuck in trees with wargs prowling around the trunks." If eagles could smirk, Gwaihir would probably be doing it, though he seemed to be managing to mostly do it anyway despite his stiff beak.

Gandalf fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Why must you always bring that particular event up? Regardless, I am afraid time is short Gwaihir. Tell me, did you find them?"

"Of course," Gwaihir nodded. "I spied them from miles away, as well as a great many other things. The lands have changed greatly since last I flew over this region, Gandalf. The forces of Saruman are already beginning their assault on the northern and western territories."

"So I have heard," Gandalf sighed thinly. "But what of the others? What is their position?"

"What others?" Shoutmon interjected. "What are we talking about?"

"The rest of the Fellowship," Gandalf related. "I asked Gwaihir to scout out their position for me. There is much that needs to be done and I must meet with them as soon as we finish our current business."

"Ah. Okay," Shoutmon nodded. "So, what's the word, Mister Bird?"

Gwaihir stared at Shoutmon for several moments. "I do not know how to respond to that," he said. "What is the word?"

"No, I mean, what's the news?" Shoutmon fought down the urge to chuckle.

"Oh. Well, it appears that your prediction was right, Gandalf. When I spotted them they were heading northwest, in a similar direction to you yourself. They are, I estimate, about a day and a half behind you at the pace they are keeping, which is a surprisingly fast one considering they were on foot. They spotted me as I flew overhead but I did not descend to speak with them."

"Who was in the party?" Gandalf asked.

"Both of the Men, the Elf and the Dwarf," Gwaihir responded instantly. "I did not see any Halflings amongst their group but I am afraid that I did see that they were pursuing what appeared to be a group of Saruman's Uruk-Hai, and I was able to pick out two small shapes in their ranks, the size of children, which could have well been two of the Halflings. As to the other two, I could not say. I did not see them."

Gandalf's expression was unreadable, as if he were trying to feel many different things at once and his face did not know which one to express. "Then we can only hope that Galadriel was right and that Frodo decided to continue the journey alone. If the Uruks have captured him then I fear all might be lost already."

"That does not sound encouraging," Shoutmon said wryly.

"I am afraid it was not meant to," Gandalf muttered. "Still, that does not explain where the last remaining Hobbit is. And I shall have to find a way to deal with the Uruks myself if the rest of the Fellowship cannot catch them in time. If they are heading for Isengard then they will have to be waylaid before they get there."

"I could attempt a rescue myself," Gwaihir offered.

"No, Windlord," Gandalf replied. "Alas, I fear that this requires a little more delicacy than you might be able to provide. You are a powerful creature, but your attack could lead to the death of the unfortunate Hobbits if something went wrong. No, I shall have to think of something myself. And beside that, I believe you have been away from your own people for too long. You must return to the Misty Mountains once more, my friend."

"You do not wish for my help?" Gwaihir cocked his head.

"On the contrary, I fear that with the speed the war is progressing, the Eagles of the North will soon be needed far more than they currently are, and when the time comes, you shall have to lead them Mighty Gwaihir. Leave the Hobbits to me. For now, I would bid you return home and lead the Eagles as you see fit. I hope that we meet again."

"As do I, Gandalf," Gwaihir nodded. He glanced back to Shoutmon and said. "Watch yourself, little one. You might be powerful, but so are many of this world inhabitants. I would hate to hear you had died before I got to see what you are capable of first-talon."

"Little one?" Shoutmon sputtered indignantly, but before he could say anything else, Gwaihir was already in flight, throwing himself off the rocks and swooping so lower over their heads that his talons almost clipped Gandalf's head before he rose upwards and high into the midday sky.

As he receded in the distance, Shoutmon said, "Well I think I understood most of that conversation. Sounds like things are getting pretty serious."

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded. "We must press on. Fly Shadowfax. Onward!"

Shadowfax complied instantly with a neigh of determination and sprang forth once more, putting on even greater speed than before as he ran. Nevertheless, before he could get too far, the shadow of Gwaihir fell over them again as the eagle descended once more to fly over their heads.

"Oh, and I believe I should also mention," he chuckled. "That your Fellowship members had some additional company Gandalf. Some additional company that might be familiar to our red Lizard King. Farewell."

"Wait, what?" Shoutmon blinked. "Familiar?" But Gwaihir was already gone once again, soaring off into the distance. "Hoi! Get back here! What do you mean? Do you mean other Digimon? My friends?"

"I would not bother shouting," Gandalf replied. "He has said all he is going to. Still, if there _are_ more Digimon travelling with my own companions then that could be most helpful."

"Yeah," Shoutmon agreed. "And I could meet up with some of the others sooner. How long until we reach this friend of yours?"

"It will be about an hour before we reach his domain," Gandalf replied. "After that, we shall have to find him."

* * *

"_This_ is the domain of your friend?" Shoutmon asked, rather alarmed. Shadowfax had finally pulled to a halt next to what appeared to be a forest, but a forest with the most gnarly, ugly, bent, contorted and foreboding trees that Shoutmon had ever seen. It reminded him eerily of what Bagramon's Great Demon Palace would have looked like if there had been a forest in it.

"Yes, this is our destination," Gandalf replied as he dismounted smoothly. "This is the forest of Fangorn, one of the Middle Earth's oldest remaining woods."

"And we have to go in there?" Shoutmon asked. "Looks very, very… sinister to me. Quite creepy."

"Be careful what you say," Gandalf chuckled as the Digimon King hopped off the back of the horse and landed easily. "The Forest might not appreciate such descriptions."

Shoutmon's brow raised up. "You're kidding right?"

"Kidding?" Gandalf frowned in bemusement.

"Er… joking," Shoutmon supplied.

"Oh, I assure you I am not joking, Master Shoutmon," the wizard replied. "I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, but I would advise you to stick close to me all the same. I have been in this forest many times – the trees know me. You, on the other hand, are a stranger and they are not overfond of strangers these days. They have not been for many long years now."

"Oh lovely," Shoutmon muttered. "Great. Well, let's not keep the creepy forest waiting."

Gandalf nodded and patted Shadowfax's neck, muttering something to the horse. The Mearas turned and cantered away. "Shadowfax will stay out here. Horses do not generally agree with Fangorn Forest. And one last thing, Shoutmon. No fire. Whatever happens, do not use that fire technique I saw you use before. The trees will get very angry indeed if they think you might try and burn them. And so will my friend for that matter."

Gandalf set off at a brisk stride towards the treeline. Shoutmon stared after him for a moment, unsure how to respond to this. They had many plant-like Digimon where he came from but the forests themselves had always been… well… forests. Ordinary forests. But Gandalf was talking as if this one was completely and utterly sentient.

After a moment, he shrugged to himself and said, "Well, if magic exists… magic forests might not be too much of a stretch. Maybe." And he quickly hurried after the wizard.

* * *

Shoutmon lost track of time almost immediately as they strayed underneath the trees. After a mere couple of minutes they had already lost sight of the edge of the trees and after that they were in almost complete darkness. No Sun, no Moon, no Stars and only the faintest drops of light reaching the floor in certain places. Soon Shoutmon was not sure if they had been there for an hour, two, or just five minutes. It was a very disorientating effect.

The more they went on, the deeper Shoutmon's unease became. He kept a close eye on the trees. Usually when he did this he wanted to make sure that there were no enemies behind them. But when the enemies might be the trees themselves… that was something new.

_Just think of them all as dormant Cherrymon,_ he thought to himself. And this actually seemed to work, to a degree. It put him in a mindset he was more familiar with.

Although the slow groaning and creaking noises were coming from all around him were still off-putting. Whenever he turned around he was pretty sure that he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye as if the trees had been shifting about and suddenly thought,_ Oh, he's looking. Freeze._

The deeper into the woods they traversed the more insistent the groaning noises became and there was the occasional sound like splintering wood, as if the tree roots were shifting underneath the soil. Gandalf, who didn't seem the least bit concerned by any of this, looked back to see Shoutmon peering out into the trees suspiciously, searching for any sign of activity.

"This place is…" Shoutmon muttered. "Dark. And not just the 'without-light' kind of dark."

"Fangorn Forest is the epicentre of a great power," Gandalf told him. "It is one of the places of Middle Earth where the spirits of the earth still reside strongly, and there are other kinds of ancient magics embedded in its structure. It is very old, but with age comes strength. And the trees have seen much since they first began to grow… and they have come to hate much of what they have seen."

"You keep talking as if they have feelings," Shoutmon muttered. And before he could say anything else, there was a loud groan that sounded more like a deep rumble of resentment and anger coming from close by. Shoutmon spun around, but all he could see was a tree looming over the top of him. He blinked. He could have sworn that tree had been leaning the other way a few moments ago.

"That is because they do," Gandalf warned. "It would be wise to remember that, Shoutmon. Many forests across Middle Earth are more alive than they might at first glance seem. Most have trees that are just trees. This forest is not one of them. These trees… are different. They have hearts, thoughts and minds just as much as any Man, Elf, Dwarf… or indeed, Digimon."

Shoutmon said nothing for a moment. "Well, if that is true… why are they so angry? What reason would trees have to be angry?"

"Trees are ancient creatures. They are slow, they are patient, and they remember," Gandalf said gravely. "They remember everything. And since they can communicate with each other they remember much which they have not seen. They remember every time some Man, every Dwarf, every Orc, every being has taken an axe to one of their comrades. They remember every fire that has been started on their wood. They remember everything they have lost and has been taken from them, every one of their number which has been destroyed. And so they have come to hate much of the outside world. Of the many races of Middle Earth, few understand the minds of the trees anymore. The Elves are one who do. And the other… the other has grown distant."

Shoutmon was momentarily stunned. He had heard many strange things from the Digital World, but the enormity of what Gandalf was saying was staggering. If what he said was true, then no wonder the trees did not like strangers. He stepped back away from the trunk of the tree and said, "Uh… no hard feelings… friend. I didn't meant to offend you. Oh, and please don't squish me. I only arrived yesterday. I have nothing to do with any of all that."

There was a slight rumbling noise coming from all around them and Shoutmon was pretty sure that a couple of the other trees around him shifted every so slightly.

"Er… was that a good thing?" Shoutmon asked the Wizard.

"Perhaps," Gandalf said. "But the trees are still watching. They are more alert than I remember. The forest must be waking up."

"And… that's bad? Or good?"

"Good," Gandalf confirmed. "Very good."

"Uh… If you say so," Shoutmon muttered. "So, where's this friend of yours?"

"Not far," Gandalf replied. "He is close now."

* * *

And so he was. Gandalf only led Shoutmon on for a further five minutes, though Shoutmon still couldn't tell exactly how long it was. But eventually the wizard drew to a stop in front of a tree that seemed to be shorter than most of the others. Its head did not break the canopy of the others and it seemed to be covered in a lot of moss and lichen with a few thin leafy branches protruding out the top and back.

"Here we are," Gandalf said.

"He lives in this tree?" Shoutmon asked.

Gandalf chuckled. "You have much to learn about our world, Shoutmon. This is no tree."

"What?" Shoutmon blinked. "No, I am pretty sure that's a tree. Look, it's got bark and leaves and everything."

Gandalf did not reply. Instead, he raised his staff and banged the base twice against a small boulder nearby. The sound it made seemed to be absorbed by the closeness of the forest, disappearing into the thick stillness like everything else, but for a moment it was crisp and clear.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then when Shoutmon looked up at the tree again, he yelped and stumbled backwards, landing in an undignified heap on his backside, because he could now see two large amber eyes staring down at him. Eyes which were _part_ of the tree.

The tree moved slightly and Shoutmon stared as he picked out more details. The eyes were situated over a woody knob that was shaped like a human nose, and the long trail of moss that extended down from its resembled a long beard. It was a face. A face on the tree. And, as it moved further, Shoutmon saw it trunk split into two enormous legs and two extremely long arms with long wooden fingers rose up from where they had been hanging limply. The tree was no longer at tree. It had never been a tree at all.

A gap in the mossy beard opened to reveal a mouth in the appropriate place on the wooden face and the creature spoke. It was a low, rumbling voice that seemed to flow in a slow but steady fashion as if the being had all the time in the world, but seemed to hold behind it the deep age and wisdom of the earth itself. It also sounded as if the creature did not actually need to breathe as it spoke.

"Young master Gandalf," it said. It sounded male, but Shoutmon didn't really know if a walking tree could have a gender. "You have not visited my forest for many years. Much appears to have changed in you since last I set eyes on you."

"There have indeed been many things, Fangorn my old friend," Gandalf replied. "The world outside of your forest is in turmoil. The forces of evil are rising once again and I have been selected to replace Saruman as the head of my order."

"Grey turns to White," the tree observed. "It seems Greyhame is no longer a suitable title for you."

"Indeed not."

"Perhaps this is fitting," the tree murmured. "Saruman's mind has changed much over recent years. I have heard that he now consorts with evil and is attempting to court war and death."

"That much is true, I'm afraid," Gandalf sighed. "It is a tragedy to see one so great as he fall so far, but sadly that is indeed what has come to pass."

"Saruman would once come and speak with me on regular occasions," the tree intoned. "But it seems his love for things that grow has diminished. Replaced instead by his desire for cold metal and his vile machines. I have seen columns of smoke rising from his fortress in recent weeks."

"And with smoke there is fire," agreed Gandalf.

The tree-man rumbled with distaste and suppressed anger and there was a groan of disapproval that seemed to run through every single tree within earshot. Shoutmon had recovered from his shock by this point. After all, he had seen Woodmon and Cherrymon and other plant Digimon before on many occasions so the idea of a walking, talking tree was not that much of a stretch of the imagination – it was just the initial surprise which had gotten to him. Now though, he looked around warily. As a creature with power over fire himself, he felt a little uncomfortable at the sounds of anger emanating all around him at the mere mention of it.

"Er… could somebody tell me what the heck is going on here?" he demanded.

"My apologies, my friend," Gandalf said. "Allow me to introduce you to Fangorn, the forest's namesake and one of the three oldest of his kind left in existence. He is an Ent, a caretaker of the trees and the forest and he has been on Middle Earth longer even than I. He also sometimes goes by the name of Treebeard."

"An appropriate name," Shoutmon murmured, staring at the long, mossy beard descending down from the Ent's face.

Treebeard stared down at Shoutmon with calculating eyes. They were neither warm nor cold… they were mostly just… blank. It was clear he did not know what to think of Shoutmon. Shoutmon looked up into the eyes of this Ent creature and was rather startled when he saw the sheer depths they seemed to go to. They were the colour of tree sap, but they appeared like wells… wells that had seen so much and yet so little at the same time. They reminded him a little of Beelzemon – steady, calm and scrutinising. And slow. Very slow indeed.

"Hrum, hoom," Treebeard murmured. "How strange. Never before have I lain eyes on a creature such as this? You are fortunate that you are Gandalf, for were you not I might have mistaken you for another of Saruman's vile abominations. I have seen some of what he has made from afar, yet you are not like them, I realise. I sense temperament within you but I cannot think of what you are. You do not belong in any of the old lists."

"Lists?" Shoutmon frowned. "What lists?"

"Hasty for knowledge, I see you are," Treebeard rumbled. "I refer to the ancient lists of the creatures of the world. Long lists they were, but were supposed to encompass every living creature brought to live in the world by the Valar, excluding the dark creations of Morgoth, of course. 'Eldest of all, the Elf-children; Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses; Ent the earthborn, old as mountains; Man the mortal, master of horses.' Hoom, there were many, many more besides but place you, I cannot."

"Not surprising really," Shoutmon chuckled. "I'm not exactly from around here."

"Shoutmon is what we might refer to as a Digimon, Treebeard," Gandalf replied. "As his kind only came into our existence yesterday there would be no place for him in the list. He and his kind were sent here by Eru Ilúvatar himself to help aid in the coming war."

"Hm. I did think I felt a change in the world but last sun," Treebeard muttered. "An alteration in the earth that might have consequence for all."

"That was probably us," conceded Shoutmon. "You haven't seen anything else new have you? Odds are it was probably a Digimon if you didn't recognise it."

"Nothing have I seen except for the strange new breed of orc that now run across the open spaces," Treebeard shook his head. "A most foul abomination they are, able to endure Sun and running with the gait of Men."

"So you haven't seen anything either," Shoutmon grumbled. "Brilliant."

"No, don't be hasty," Treebeard chided him as if he were a young child. "Things will come to those who wait."

"Including death," Gandalf replied. "While I admire your steady nature, Treebeard, I fear that if ever there were a time for haste it would be now. War is coming, and when it arrives, it will affect all, including you, your brethren and your trees."

Treebeard's head slowly turned round to look back at Gandalf. "For one so old, Gandalf, you are remarkably quick. Haste leads to rashness and rashness can lead to poor judgement and bad decisions. Patience can bring many rewards to those who have it. This Digimon friend of yours may be one example of that."

"Perhaps," Gandalf agreed. "But unfortunately Sauron will not see it that way. The sooner he can conquer this world, the better in his view, and the people must be ready for him when he arrives, or they shall be caught flat-footed, including your own. Sauron will destroy everything in his path, including the forest which you hold so dear. Fangorn is many times smaller now than it once was. Losing its great dynasty would indeed be a tragedy."

"Hm, this war is the war of Men," Treebeard grumbled. "It is with them that the darkness has its quarrel, not with us. We have changed little over the years, Gandalf, but we have seen the world change around us. We witnessed the rise of Sauron before and we were left well alone. You assume this time will be different?"

"Indeed I do," Gandalf nodded. "Sauron's rise was thwarted before for the Last Alliance was given many years to prepare for their assault. Sauron will be quicker this time. He will drive his orcs onwards from the south-east and take all in his path."

"Got that right," Shoutmon agreed. "If Sauron's anything like Bagramon, he'll want to mould everything in this world into something he likes. Those he doesn't kill will suffer. They always do."

"Hroom," Treebeard turned back to Shoutmon before. "You have faced great evil before then." He surmised. "War may affect everyone but it affects them in different ways. Fighting for the world is not my duty. We Ents were meant to guard the forests and that is what we shall do until the forests fade away. Perhaps if Sauron makes a move against us then act we will, but we do not have any business with him as of yet."

"Well, make it your business then!" Shoutmon suddenly cried. "You would turn your back on those that needed help?"

"The world has turned its back on us," Treebeard responded sagely. "Men are little different from those that they fight. They have spread across the four corners of this world, imposing themselves on everything before them. They care not for what they despoil, including the forests, and yet they claim they are different from orcs. Men are interested in little but themselves. The forests have receded under their hand and the time of the Elves and the Ents and the trees draws ever closer to an end."

"Well maybe," Shoutmon grunted. "But still, are you telling me that if a human, a Man, whatever, was fighting for his life against a bunch of bad guys right under your nose, you would merely let the guy be killed?"

Treebeard looked affronted. "Many Men do have good hearts, but it is their ignorance that is the greatest bane on the world."

"That does not answer my question," Shoutmon glowered.

"You are hastier than I assumed, I see," Treebeard replied. "Hrum, but the answer is of course, I would help him. Orcs have no place in this world. They were brought into it by foul sorcery and evil, as were the trolls. The trolls especially are an affront to everything Entish. I would not stand by as they ravaged our land."

"Well then," Shoutmon pointed up at him. "If you wouldn't leave someone to die when they're in front of you, why should you leave many others to die by not going out to help them, huh? You'd wait until they came to get you before you acted? That's a surefire way to maximise your chances of losing. When we're split apart, I can tell you that we are far, far weaker than we could ever be when united."

Treebeard continued to regard Shoutmon for what felt like a full ten minutes, but was in reality just one, before he said anything else. When he did say it, he said, "Root and twig, you are something very different indeed. You speak with such conviction for your stature."

"Damn straight," Shoutmon scoffed. "I know better than most how combining strength builds it."

"And he is right," Gandalf nodded, sending Shoutmon a smile of gratitude. "I will not make any demands of you, Fangorn. You are the master of this realm after all and we are in your land. However, I would request that you at least consider our words. Sauron understands the strength of combining forces just as well, and even now he calls as many evil creatures and races as he can to his cause. It is time, my old friend."

"Time is as steady as everything else for an Ent," Treebeard responded. "But what time would you say it is."

"I would request that you would convene the Entmoot once again," Gandalf replied. "Only you can decide whether you will help in the war which is consuming the world and I trust in your judgement, Treebeard. I feel that the Ents have more to give to the world than they currently are. You must decide, and soon, whether to fight for us. Saruman the White is in league with the enemy now and he is your neighbour. The danger may be closer than you would like to think."

Treebeard rumbled to himself. "Not since the Second Age have the Ents gathered, Gandalf. We do not have the strength that we once had."

"Perhaps," the Wizard said again. "But I believe you have more than you think you do."

Treebeard looked like he was about to say something else after a brief moment's pause. But something else interrupted him before he could manage it. One of the nearby trees visible started to move, to shake slightly even though there was absolutely no wind to cause it to do so. A groaning that was so low it was almost guttural started up around them as other trees began to shift. Treebeard looked up and them, eyes narrowing slightly as he listened to the noise.

"Er… what's going on?" Shoutmon asked, edging away from the nearest tree.

"The trees are speaking to one another," Gandalf said, with a frown. "They are agitated."

"That groaning noise is tree-talk?" Shoutmon asked.

"Indeed," the Wizard nodded. "Few are able to understand what trees are capable of saying but they are more than capable of understanding one another. Treebeard, what news?"

"Something comes," Treebeard replied, with a slight frown. "Something unusual. The trees are… growing restless. They are awaking faster than I had anticipated and now they are saying that something is approaching. Something which has unsettled them. I must investigate."

Gandalf had, throughout his time, rarely seen an Ent move at any pace except a slow, striding walk, but evidently the disruption to his beloved trees was more than enough to get this Ent moving quickly. He stepped forwards, past the Wizard and the small Digimon and moved away into the forest at what might be a brisk pace for an Ent, but was actually quite fast considering the size of his legs meant that his strides were far longer than anything other humanoids might be able to manage.

"Come," Gandalf said, nodding in the direction that Treebeard had taken. "Whatever is taking place must be significant to have this effect on the trees of the forest. And our business with Treebeard is not yet concluded either."

"Well, if there is a threat," Shoutmon growled, raising his microphone and patting the bulbous tip into the palm of one hand, "Then they might have found a little more than they bargained for." And the Digimon King charged after Treebeard with Gandalf in hot pursuit, leaping over tree roots with easy bounds and following the huge depressions in the ground made by Treebeard's every footfall. Gandalf held his staff close and his other hand strayed towards the hilt of his sword, Glamdring. He hoped he would have to use neither, but he knew that whatever this was, it was likely to be more than a simple Orc raiding party.

* * *

Deckerdramon had ploughed himself up the river for a considerable amount of time in search of any other forms of life, but all he had seen throughout this venture had been… well, nothing but forest really. It seemed that this tree landscape was just as deserted of life as the plains – lots of plants but no animals of any kind. Perhaps the birds had more sense to live in a place like this. Everything seemed thick and slow and dense, even the air around him, as if it was pushing down on him and attempting to force him underwater.

And Deckerdramon could never shake the feeling that he was being watched by something at all times.

Eventually though, the river had tapered out and grown even thinner – too thin for Deckerdramon to navigate his way through. He sighed. "Well, so much for that idea," he murmured to himself as his legs folded outwards and returned to their original position, while his back-launchers shifted back down to the prime position for firing, pulling himself out of Float Mode and into his normal form. As he touched the bottom of the shallow river he motored himself forwards, forcing himself up the shallow bank and onto the first reasonably large space amongst the trees that he could find.

He was rather surprised when the trees reacted to this and the nearest ones to him seemed to try and back away, though it could have been a trick of the light, or lack of light. Regardless, the groaning sounds that had continued to resonate all around him increased the moment the Deckerdramon pulled out of the river and he could distinctly hear the sounds of rustling branches coming from every direction.

The enormous alligator stood there for a while, listening and watching, but nothing else other than that seemed to happen for a while so he merely shut his eyes and tried to blot out the noise, giving himself some rest as he tried to think what his next move would be.

This forest was unlikely to get him anywhere. He had not been in it for long but the river was too thin for him to continue effectively and he was pretty sure that traversing his large and rather unwieldy body through the dense trees would not be worth the effort. So, there seemed to be only one course of action he could take – turn back and head back out across the plains, this time on the ground. It still seemed like a lousy option, but it was the best it really had.

After a while though, Deckerdramon heard something which caused his eye to open. Something like heavy footfalls, muffled by the sound of the forest but still distinctly footsteps. Ones which were getting closer. He frowned, wondering if his luck was in. Perhaps this was another Digimon approaching who could help him find out where he was. He slowly turned himself around so he was facing the direction of the noise and waited for the perpetrator to appear.

When it did, Deckerdramon blinked at the sight of the walking tree-like creature which hove into view ahead of him. It's long, mossy heard stretched down past its hips and it had a look of both confusion and wariness in its amber eyes.

The two creatures stared at each other for a while before the newcomer moved first, stepping forwards and saying, "You disturb the forest, stranger. The trees do not take to your presence here. They say that you reek of industry and metal and smoke. They are angry. You must leave."

Deckerdramon's eyes rolled to the side, able to see the trees a little more clearly. The regular trees that is. Some of them did still appear to be shifting uneasily. Deckerdramon's eyes narrowed, wondering once again just where the heck he was.

"I beg your pardon, good Tree," he said, turning his eyes back to face the new person. "It was not my intent to cause disruption in your home. I have merely lost my way and am seeking to find my friends."

"Your friends?" the tree rumbled. "Perhaps you are referring to Orcs? And I am not a Tree. I am an Ent, a Guardian of the Forest."

"Guardian of the Forest?" Deckerdramon repeated. "Well, fancy that. A noble title, if I do say so myself."

"You have an eloquent tongue," the Ent stated. "Hum, hroom, but your body, your form… this can only be the work of Saruman. You bears the marks of his foul machines and contraptions. A body of metal is no natural thing. Is this some treachery of the Wizard? Are you one of his creations?"

Deckerdramon frowned. "I am afraid I have not the foggiest idea what you are talking about," he said. "Who is the Wizard you speak of? And I assure you that I was not created by some magic. I was born into my world just as with every other creature. And a metal body is perfectly natural where I am from, I guarantee it."

"And perchance where you are from would be Isengard?" the Ent's rumblings were growing stronger as he grew more suspicious. He was spreading his legs out and reaching down with his enormous gnarled hands to where a large boulder was nestled on the ground, as if making ready to scoop it up and throw it.

"Now hold on," Deckerdramon protested. "What have I done to deserve such aggression from you, Master Ent. I did not wish to cause you unease and if you so desire I shall leave immediately. But…"

"Oh, I don't believe it!" cried a familiar voice from nearby. "Deckerdramon, you old croc! It's so great to see you!"

Both the Ent and the crocodilian faltered as the red form of Shoutmon bounded past the former and skidded to a halt in front of the latter, while a man in white robes stepped up from the same direction. Deckerdramon took one look at Shoutmon and let loose an uproarious bellow of laughter, lifting himself up onto his back legs slightly for a moment before crashing down again with a colossal thump.

"My liege," he laughed. "Shoutmon. Thank the Code Crown I have found someone at last. I've been wandering around for over half a day without the faintest idea where I am or what's going on. But at last I finally found you, my King."

"And a good thing too from the looks of things," Shoutmon laughed. "It sure as heck is good to see a familiar face after all this madness that's been going on recently. But have you seen any of the others?"

Deckerdramon shook his gargantuan head slightly, smoke unfurling out of the vents on the bottom of his snout as he did so. "I'm afraid not. I found myself close to a river when I woke up after the celebration and I forged my way upstream in the hope that I found someone or something but until you I have seen nothing at all. No sign of anyone else I'm afraid."

Shoutmon grimaced. "Well, you can't have everything I suppose, but still, running into you again is more than enough. I already feel a lot better knowing that the Digimon who could probably destroy our own castle in a single move is back."

Deckerdramon chuckled. "And I feel better knowing that the King is safe."

Shoutmon looked a little uneasy for a split second. Deckerdramon's statement reminded him of the self-confidence issues that he'd been having recently. If everything that Gandalf had said about this world and why the Code Crown had sent them here was true then he would indeed need to be responsible for everything that happened next, like a King should be. He already knew that this was going to be the greatest challenge he had had to face since rising to the throne by far and not just in terms of the fighting but leading his Digimon, if he found the rest of them, into alien territory.

And, as before, he was not entirely sure he was up to it.

Still, he quickly wiped the unease off his face and grinned. There was no need to tell Deckerdramon about his own doubts right now. They had enough problems to worry about besides the fact that the King didn't know if he could lead or not.

"I see you've picked up some new friends, Shoutmon," Deckerdramon looked up at the Ent and the Wizard once again. "Care to introduce me? And perhaps tell me what is going on?"

"What is going on is that just about everything we know has been turned on its head," Shoutmon muttered. "But yeah, I can introduce you. This is Gandalf, and Big, Tall and Leafy here is Treebeard."

"Then perhaps we are in the Human World?" Deckerdramon enquired, taking in Gandalf's appearance.

"He's not a Human. He's a… I forget the word. Let's just go with Wizard, for now. Anyway, you guys, this is Deckerdramon, one of the most, if not _the absolute_ most, powerful Digimon in my personal forces – the Xros Heart United Army. When I was talking about some of my friends who could level villages instantly, this guy is primarily who I had in mind."

"I see that you were not… 'kidding'… as you put it," even Gandalf seemed to find himself slightly stunned and amazed as he took in the sight of the enormous Digimon that loomed over him, so tall he nearly brushed the canopy in many places. "If he is indeed a Digimon, then you were not exaggerating when you said that you could come in many forms."

"Course I wasn't," Shoutmon snorted, patting Deckerdramon's huge, armoured leg. "And I can tell you, now that we've got Deckerdramon and his missiles on our side, the forces of this Sauron guy are going to be wetting themselves and running the other way, you mark my words."

"Sauron does have many large and powerful creatures on his side as well," cautioned Gandalf. "But perhaps you, Deckerdramon, could put even many of them in an uneasy state of mind."

"Who exactly are we talking about?" Deckerdramon asked. "Who is Sauron?"

"Well," Shoutmon shrugged. "It's quite a long story I'm afraid. And I already can't remember about half of it. If that."

"Your memory is improving then," Deckerdramon chuckled, blowing more steam from his vents.

"Watch it," Shoutmon glared at him. "I am not above bashing you in the nose, Big Guy."

Treebeard, who had remained silent of observing since Shoutmon had entered the picture, chose this moment to speak up again, "Hrum, hm, you say that you are both Digimon? Yet your body shapes are so vastly different. The lists of old may not apply to you, but they agree that members of the same species are supposed to be similar to one another, excluding differences between male and female."

"Where Digimon are concerned, anything is possible," Shoutmon shrugged. "And we tend to break the usual rules."

"So, then you are not a servant of the fallen Wizard?" Treebeard asked for confirmation, staring intently at Deckerdramon. "You do not associate yourself with the vile, destructive Orcs of the mountains."

"If you are referring to the Wizard you mentioned earlier then I have never heard of him before today," Deckerdramon replied evenly. "I certainly do not serve him. I serve only King Shoutmon and the Generals of our army, Kiriha or Taiki or Nene. And since we have not seen them in many years, Shoutmon is the only one I answer to."

"And do you, perchance, believe their tale, Gandalf?" the Ent looked down at his friend.

"I do," Gandalf nodded. "Shoutmon would have little reason to lie about this and the Lady Galadriel has personally vouched that the Digimon can be trusted. This Deckerdramon is indeed another Digimon and therefore an ally of ours."

Treebeard coughed and had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. "Hoom, then I must beg your forgiveness," he said, turning to Deckerdramon once more and lowering his head. "In my need to protect the trees I seem to have ignored my own motto and acted in haste. You see, Gandalf, how haste can lead to poor judgement and incorrect decisions. I assumed that this Deckerdramon was a dark creature creating at Isengard by the traitorous Wizard, and in my haste I almost acted rashly. I must remember to pace myself further in the future."

"These are difficult times, Treebeard," Gandalf nodded. "As I said they would be. And I am sure that Deckerdramon understands your need to protect your home."

"Naturally," Deckerdramon agreed sombrely. "I have had to do just that in the past myself. You need not worry, Treebeard. I do forgive you. I can sense strong love emanating from within you – love for everything that you have cared for since you first came into being, love for everything that grows and your forest and your home. I sense your true self through that love and I understand your position."

"Deckerdramon is the Guardian of Love in our world," Shoutmon supplied. "He's able to judge a person's character almost immediately by how much love they hold in their hearts, allowing him to recognise enemies and friends on sight. And he will only ally himself with those who have very strong love in their hearts."

"Love is a most important commodity," Gandalf smiled warmly. "One of the most valuable there is and one that our enemy does not understand and seeks to eradicate. The world would truly be an empty place without it. Tell me, good Deckerdramon, what do you sense coming from my own heart."

Deckerdramon fixed Gandalf with one large, red eye for a moment, which then closed as if basking in something. "Oh, you're love burns like the Sun, Master Wizard. I can sense your strong feelings for everything that you see around you that is good, and all peoples and races that you consider under your care. You have lived for so long now – I can tell – and your love has grown exponentially with each passing year. And… while there are many who you consider close to you who you constantly worry for, you also care deeply for all people you consider free, even those who are less than receptive to it."

He opened his eyes and added, "You understand love at its deepest heart and in all its forms. And you wish to use that love, inspire it in others and teach them to stand together. Strong love. You have it in abundance."

"More than Kiriha?" Shoutmon raised a brow.

Deckerdramon laughed. "Perhaps even more than Kiriha," he said. "But do not tell him I said that if we ever come across our Generals again?"

"Why? Is the big, powerful Deckerdramon worried he'll upset him? Or are you afraid of getting told off?"

"If you were not the King, I would tell you to be quiet," Deckerdramon muttered. Shoutmon snickered into a hand.

Gandalf had actually felt his self-esteem lift when he listened to Deckerdramon's description of hi. "I thank you for your kind words, Master Digimon," he said. "I can see that you may make a fine friend and ally in the coming fight."

"You have no idea," Shoutmon grinned. "No, seriously, you don't. You've never seen Deckerdramon in action before. The things I've seen him do are mind-boggling at times. The sheer amount of firepower he possesses can sometimes be astonishing. And if you guys don't even have technology in this world… then you've never seen missiles in action before, have you?" He grinned.

"We have never had much need for this technology," Gandalf said, with slight distaste. "It is a word that is new to our world, as is another word – industry. Saruman is, even now, creating weapons and machines which might well do similar things to your friend here."

"I doubt they'd be as good," Shoutmon chuckled. "And it's not _all_ bad you know. From what I know of things like industry, which is not much admittedly, it can be just as useful to build as to destroy. It's just the problem is for some people it's difficult to always know which one they are doing. Though I bet it's 'destroy' all the way with Saruman, right?"

"Sadly yes," Gandalf nodded. "Nevertheless, the world has gone through three ages without the need for this newfound industry and the way it despoils the natural world and I do not believe we shall need it in the future. Though I do not wish to cause offence to you Digimon if you would rather use it."

"We don't use it a whole lot ourselves really," Shoutmon shrugged. "It's just that some of us, like Deckerdramon here, are technologically built."

"Though I assure you I am not a metal creature," Deckerdramon replied. "I am quite flesh underneath all this armour."

There were further groaning noises from the trees around them, causing all four members of the company to look around them. "The trees grow more uneasy," Treebeard murmured. "They do not like the presence of the metal reptile, as they say. They still declare that his feels unnatural to them. And the angrier the trees get here, the more dangerous they become." He looked round and fixed Deckerdramon with an amber stare. "And I am afraid to say I agree. You emit smoke, and you smell of fire. You are a danger to them all as long as you stay here."

Deckerdramon would have raised a brow it he physically could, but as he couldn't his eyes rolled upwards to stare out at the trees once more. The idea of talking trees was not so much of a surprise to him as it was to Shoutmon, considering what Deckerdramon had done with his life before joining the Blue Flare army.

"I assure you that I mean no harm to you or your forest," Deckerdramon replied earnestly. "I would never destroy that which did not need to be destroyed."

The rumbling of the trees grew more insistent. Treebeard shook his head. "They do not believe you. They say you are a destroyer, who could wreck everything in your path, and that all things like you are made only to cut and break and kill them and their brethren. They have long seen Men and others like them destroy their fallen comrades and burn them. And you have fire within you. You release smoke. You are a destroyer of trees just as Man is."

"Can you not tell them that they have it wrong?" Deckerdramon asked.

"The trees have feelings," Treebeard replied. "Their hate for things like you is strong and set deeper than their roots. They will not change their thoughts on you easily. I would not wish to make such a decision in haste, but perhaps it would be better for you to leave the forest now. The forest is waking up and they may not remain idle for long."

"The trees will attack us?" Shoutmon asked. "Seriously."

"Many of the trees here are just trees," Gandalf said. "But not all. Many of them are more than they seem, Shoutmon. And they have the strength of the ages within their wooden bodies."

"They say the same of you, Shoutmon," Treebeard agreed. "They say that they smell fire on you too."

"Smell?" Shoutmon blinked. "Trees can smell?"

Before Gandalf of Treebeard could answer that peculiar question, Deckerdramon decided to do something about the incessant groaning. He opened his jaws wide, which momentarily surprised both Gandalf and Treebeard as he had not been opening said jaws to speak, hence why his voice had a slightly echo-like quality to it, and reared up onto his hind legs a fair distance. His back and shoulders pushed up against the canopy and the trees seemed to retract from his touch and he let out a bellow which shook the area for miles around.

"Ancient forest," Deckerdramon cried. "I know that you fear me and that you would rather see me gone, but I can tell you now that I am not your enemy. I will never be the enemy of the Forest, of any Forest. Apparently you have a Guardian in the form of this Ent and possibly the others of his kind here already, and in that instance I am not so different from them. For back in my world, I too was a Guardian of the Forest."

The trees actually quietened, the groans and moans reduced to a minimum and an intense and thick air of silence settled over the forest, one that seemed like the silence of many people listening attentively to what was going on.

Treebeard looked surprised. "You? A Forest Guardian?" he asked.

"Indeed," Deckerdramon nodded. "Perhaps not in the same sense as you in guarding and caring for the trees, but back in the Digital World, we had a large number of territories which we called Zones. One of these Zones was the Forest Zone. It was a single big woodland filled with trees far taller than any around here and numerous plant and insect Digimon alike. I may be a Guardian of Love, but I was also the Guardian of the Forest Zone and it was my duty to protect it and its inhabitants from any threat that sought to destroy both land and life. So, in many ways, perhaps I am similar to you Ents. I lived in a great Temple, filled with an abundance of life and protected the most sacred treasure of the realm to ensure that nothing could change the forest to its purposes."

"Hey, he's right," Shoutmon nodded, a grin on his jagged mouth. "He and his two closest followers, Lilamon and Stingmon, helped to defend everything and everyone from the Bagra Army when they invaded. The Forest Zone was a place where they tried for months to invade without success thanks to Deckerdramon and his subordinates."

"That is right," Deckerdramon rumbled. "And whilst I might not be a Forest Guardian in the same sense as an Ent, I am still one in some sense. I regard the forest as my first home, and I will always defend it, never destroy it. You have nothing to fear from me."

"Though you should thank the fates that Lilamon is not here," Shoutmon snickered. "Because if she were then you might have to watch her doing the Love Love Dance whenever she feels in a bouncy mood."

"That dance is proof that you have love in your heart," Deckerdramon objected. "And perhaps this forest could do with a little more of it."

The trees rumbling grew in pitch again but they did not rise to the same heights as before. Treebeard listened to them for a few moments and then gave an earthy chuckle. "Perhaps the trees were too hasty to jump to a conclusion themselves. They are still suspicious and they claim that they will be watching, but they have subsided their complaints for now. Hrum, hoom, you are most certainly an odd bunch, you Digimon. Root and twig, you are. Hm."

"I most certainly agree," Gandalf nodded. "A strange bunch for strange times. If there are as many of you in our world as you think there might be then I must confess I am eager to make the acquaintances of the others, and there has been little that has made me eager for many long years now."

"You flatter us, sir," Deckerdramon laughed as he settled back down onto his front feet. "Now that I at least have some form of semi-trust from this forest perhaps somebody could actually tell me more about our current situation. If this is not the Human nor the Digital World, then where actually are we?"

"Alright – here's that long story which I mentioned before," Shoutmon grinned, and he began to explain everything to Deckerdramon. As he did, Gandalf stepped around to face Treebeard again and said, "Well, Treebeard? Do you believe that the Digimon are worthy of your trust now?"

"Hrum… Still in two minds, am I, Gandalf," Treebeard replied stoically. "The trees are right – those creatures do not feel like any other we have experienced and still they smell of fire and smoke. But I shall not be hasty. I shall make my decision when I have seen more of their activity."

"And something tells me you may see quite a bit more of what they can do in the future," Gandalf said. "I have the beginnings of an idea, Treebeard. An idea that may help to end this war and the reign of Sauron forever. But while Sauron is a great threat, Saruman is the closer and more immediate one. We must end his misguided attack on the world now before we can truly begin our attempt to turn the tables on Saruman. I would ask you once again to consider convening the Entmoot. The Ents must play their part if all the Free Peoples you spoke of in the lists before can remain Free."

"There has been no Entmoot since the Second Age, Gandalf," Treebeard replied. "Not since the Entwives…" he stopped and grimaced through his mossy beard and said no more, but he did not need to. Gandalf knew what he was talking about.

"I know my friend," he said. "But all I ask is that you at least discuss it amongst you and your kin. For I agree with Shoutmon. Either we all unite, or we will all fall."

* * *

Treebeard is HARD to get right! He doesn't say a whole lot in the films because he speaks so slowly, but he does quite a bit of talking in this chapter, and I hope to God that I got him to sound right at least most of the time. Still, at least now I have finally gotten this chapter out of the way, and I can move on to the next one soon enough. As to Deckerdramon, I thought it was quite ironic that a missile-toting alligator was a guardian of the Forest Zone in Xros Wars, but I saw the connection between him and Treebeard and thought that the two of them might make quite good comrades one day.

See you soon. Possibly. Maybe. Hopefully…

* * *

Next time…

Fangorn is not the only dark forest with a Digimon in it. Up towards the north, Lillymon and the three Elite Monitamon are still wandering around, completely lost and with no idea where their friends are. And soon, something else will be adding to their problems. Many somethings… each with many legs.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 13 : Mysteries of Mirkwood**


	13. Mysteries of Mirkwood

Hey! I'm on a roll now. How wild is this? Several new chapters up within one week and during the summer holiday. It's almost like old times, and old times may be on us again within a month or so. And so we move onto the next chapter of this long story and whereas things seem to be looking up for some of the characters in the last few chapters, this one… is quite different. I hope that you enjoy the ride.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 13:- Mysteries of Mirkwood**

* * *

Some of the Digimon that had found themselves in Middle Earth were having a better time of it than others.

And one of those who was not having the best of it was Lillymon. The petit flower fairy Digimon was no closer to finding out what the heck had happened to her or where any of the other members of Xros Heart were, and certainly not any closer to finding a way out of the horrible woodland that she had found herself in when she had landed here yesterday. Yes, she had the three Elite Monitamon with her at the moment and that was a small comfort, as they were certainly better than being all alone. But still, the sheer sense of aloneness that the forest around them produced seemed to be constantly trying to weigh in on her.

And to top things off, her wing was not healing as quickly as she had expected.

To recap on what had happened since Lillymon and the Monitamon had encountered one another would not take very long at all. They had simply been wandering in the same direction, or what they assumed was the same direction, on foot through the thick tangle of undergrowth of the dark forest, for as long as they could.

It had not been easy going for Lillymon. On the wing she would have had little problem, but as she was restricted to the ground while waiting for her wing to heal she found the going much more difficult. The undergrowth of the forest was not a good place to be, with upended roots and vicious thorny shrubs that appeared to be half-dead all over the place, as well as several low hanging vines and branches, which made traversing through it hard for a humanoid, even a small one like Lillymon. The thorns scratched at her legs and tugged at her dress, and she was constantly having to duck under branches and squirm around the bushes, and at one point a vine seemed to hove out of nowhere and she almost put her head into it like a noose before she spotted it and carefully ducked beneath it.

She was glad she was wearing boots. She daren't imagine how thorny the ground was beneath her.

The Monitamon were having a better time of it than her. Their small frames and ninja skills enabled them to leap from tree-trunk to tree-trunk with relative ease, higher up and away from all the tangled mess of the ground layer. Lillymon realised now that she relied on her wings a lot, and it might be better in future to invest in some similar skills just in case something like this happened again.

Not that she hoped it would. Definitely not.

Still, at least they could take relative comfort in the fact that they didn't appear to be going in circles. Every so often, Lillymon would produce a Flower Wreath from thin-air and wrap it around a tree-trunk or an old log before moving on, and so far they had yet to come across anything that Lillymon had already left behind, which was some relief. But only some, as the appearance of the forest itself had not changed at all. It was still as dark and gloomy, still as dreary and rankly terrifying as it had been since they had started out.

Who knew how many hours of walking they had done since then.

The lack of light was making it difficult for Lillymon in another way too. All Digimon possessed self-healing abilities that humans didn't have a hope of matching, grievous injuries taking a relatively short time to heal in comparison. But, being a plant-Digimon and all, Lillymon was able to heal and regain strength much better when she was exposed to light. And hear, in this forest, she was getting almost none of it. The canopy was too thick and everything was far too murky and… shudder-worthy.

There had been a point where she had found a slender shaft of light that had managed to penetrate all the way down to the floor like some sort of faint spotlight and she had attempted to stand in it for a while and help herself heal a little faster. But in doing so, everything around her seemed to become even darker and the light, faint as it was, did little to help her wing heal.

Lillymon did not stay under the shaft for long. The sheer creepiness of the place compelled her to keep moving. Staying in the same place for any length of time seemed like a hilariously stupid and dangerous idea for some reason. Perhaps it was some instinct buried deep into her but she decided to listen to it. Keeping on the move would make you a far less easy target for anything that might be out to get you.

Not that anything had been out to get them yet.

* * *

But when night had set in, then Lillymon decided that enough was enough. They would have to stop, as it was becoming even darker and she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Going ahead now would be a spectacularly bad idea. They would have to wait for the Sun and the little light it gave down here, to return.

The Monitamon had managed to find a large, partially fallen tree with thick roots that were still half-buried in the ground. The four Digimon had crawled into the space between the base of the tree and said roots, but none of them had slept. It felt uncomfortably like they had been locked in some wooden cage that they could never escape from. But at the same time, it would be difficult for anything else to get _in_ at them, and that made it good enough in their view.

And so they had huddled there, shuddering and breathing shallowly as they listened to the completely dead silence around them.

"Do you think we'll ever find a way out of here?" E-Monitamon-3 asked nervously.

"What kind of question is that?" E-Monitamon-1 hissed. "Of course we will. Er… won't we, Lillymon."

"Sure we will," nodded Lillymon, trying to force a faux smile onto her face. She unfolded her injured wing and inspected it closely as she could in the near complete lack of light, flexing it slightly. "My wings definitely better than it was, even if it hasn't healed as much as I would like. I'm sure that it will be all fixed up by some point tomorrow and then if we haven't found a way out of this wood by then we can just fly out. You'll see."

"You're very brave, Lillymon," D-Monitamon-1 muttered. "Much braver than we are."

_Brave?_ Lillymon thought to herself, shaking her head imperceptibly. _Oh, I am far from brave. I am terrified. I don't think that there's ever been a time where I've been more scared. I'm the last thing there is from brave._ She sighed to herself and mentally added, _If I was brave, I would have told Shoutmon how I felt about him a long time ago. I would have fought harder for him when he needed me to. I am definitely not brave._

But then she looked down at the Monitamon and thought, _But these guys are terrified too. Maybe I can… I dunno. I guess I should at least try and look like I know what I'm doing. Ugh, heal you stupid wing, heal._

They barely said anything else all through the night. The Monitamon half-heartedly started to try and tell jokes to one another, but eventually they stopped, as even the sound of their own voices seemed to have eerie edges to them in the complete blackness. And Lillymon was beginning to feel the urge to go from beyond scared and into complete jitteriness.

She resisted as best she could, wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled her legs close and tried not to shiver too much.

_What would Shoutmon do?_ She thought to herself. _Probably just shout at the darkness and throw fireballs at any shadow that moved. What would Beelzemon do? Stay calm probably. How does he even do that?_

Still, nothing happened during the night, although there was a point where they heard some kind of horrible snuffling noise coming from somewhere around them. They couldn't tell how far away it was or even what direction it was coming from, but all four of them promptly froze and listened hard with bated breath until long after the sound had gone away. They had no idea what it might have been and to be honest they didn't really want to know.

* * *

Eventually the light, or what little there was of it, returned and the Monitamon hopped out of their hiding place as Lillymon scrambled through the thick tree roots. To her dismay Lillymon found she had lost her bearings in the darkness while they had searched for the shelter. _Great,_ she thought. _Some leader I am. Guess I made the right choice not to pursue Shoutmon – I'm definitely not Queen material._

All she could do now was pick a random direction and hope for the best, and so they set off into the woods once more, Lillymon wrapping her arms around her body and hugging herself as she moved.

And… things began to play out pretty much the same way that they had yesterday, with the Monitamon bounding through the trees and continually doubling back so that Lillymon could keep up with their pace.

Hours more passed like this and once again nothing changed. Lillymon was not only scared but… annoyed. Yes, annoyed – that was it. Did this forest never end? This forest that they had somehow found themselves in didn't even seem to have a limit to it because no matter how far Lillymon walked there always seemed to be more of it.

As was said before, Lillymon usually liked forests. But not this one. This one was just too malevolent and dark and sinister, like something was attempting to permeate through her and wrap around her soul and squeeze it. Which was a very disturbing metaphor and Lillymon was not happy with herself for thinking of it.

Eventually, Lillymon just sighed and sat down on a log. This was getting them nowhere. Wandering aimlessly through these words was not going to do them any favours whatsoever, and since her wing was still tender and not completely healed they desperately needed to come up with an alternative. Lillymon wanted to leave here, as quickly as possible, because with every hour she spent here the icy feeling of barely-suppressed dread was creeping further and further up her spine.

It felt like the forest was one big trap of darkness that was slowly closing in around her and she didn't want that trap to snap shut.

The Monitamon all noticed that she had stopped quickly enough and quickly turned back to come to her, pulling to stops next to her. "What's wrong?" E-Monitamon-2 asked with concern. "Did you twist your ankle or something?"

"No, not that," Lillymon shook her head. "But… well… how are you guys feeling?"

"Not good," E-Monitamon-3 shivered. "This whole place gives me the creeps and I don't know why. Every time I look around a corner I think that there's something coming after me but it turns out to just be a shadow." And he bopped the small satellite dish on top of his head. "And I'm not picking up any signals with this thing."

"Me neither," E-Monitamon-1 agreed. "This whole forest… there's something so _wrong_ about it. It feels like the Hell's Field did in some funny way. Like it's been… horribly tainted by something."

"I know what you mean," Lillymon agreed, shuddering again and mentally scolding herself for doing so. "Like there's an ancient dark force spreading through the soul and corrupting every growing thing around. And I don't like it. But my wing is still damaged and until it heals I don't want to fly us out of here so I was thinking… you guys can send signals and images to each other, right?"

"Yes, but, please don't ask us to go out there and try and scout around," E-Monitamon-2 begged. "I don't want to be anywhere on my own in this place. Its gives me the willies."

"The trembles," E-Monitamon-1 confirmed.

"The shakes," E-Monitamon-3 added.

"Heebie-jeebies sounds like a childish word and doesn't really befit what I'm feeling right now but I guess it's the closest thing I can come up with," remarked Lillymon. "But no, I was just thinking, couldn't one of you head up to the top of the trees and take a look around above the canopy. It's took dark down here – we can't see anything. We need to have more of a bearing on where we're going."

The three Monitamon glanced at each other.

"Er… why didn't we think of that?" E-Monitamon-3 asked.

"I was too scared," E-Monitamon-1 muttered.

"But it's so obvious," E-Monitamon-2 claimed.

All three of them smacked themselves on the tops of the television monitors that made up their heads and cried, "D'oh!"

Despite the intense feeling of foreboding that was still trying to worm its way to the nape of her neck, Lillymon couldn't help but chuckle at the odd behaviour of the three little ninjas. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were the elites of their village. But then she said, "Are you guys up for it then?"

"I'll do it," E-Monitamon-1 cried. "I want to see some solid daylight again anyway." And he quickly bounded onto another tree-trunk at such speed he became a blur and bolted up it in several bounds that seemed to defy the laws of physics until he reached the branches high above, where he started leaping from one to one like some kind of living pinball.

Lillymon lost sight of him incredibly quickly as he did this and her eyes widened slightly as she beheld it. "Wow," she said. "You guys are quick."

The other two Monitamon placed there hand on their hips and stood as tall as they could, which wasn't much and also displayed their rather rounded bellies, while their monitors displayed happy . symbols. "We trained hard to be as fast and agile as we possibly could," E-Monitamon-3 declared.

"And its served us well," E-Monitamon-2 agreed.

Lillymon smiled. But then she tensed visibly. Every moment that they had been in the forest, along with the horrible, claustrophobic sense of compression the forest seemed to produce as well as the menacing sense of ominousness, Lillymon had been constantly having, just in the back of her brain, that strange tingling yet horrible sensation of being watched.

But that sensation had just spiked, and she had no idea why.

Slowly, fearing what she would see, she turned back to look over her shoulder.

But there was nothing but the forest through which they had already passed. The shadows might have lengthened and pooled a little bit and seemed to be condensing before her eyes, but that was no different from the rest of the woodland they had already gone through. Scary yes, but not different.

And yet Lillymon couldn't shake that feeling of being observed by something out of sight. It was extremely bone-chilling.

"What is it?" hissed one of the Monitamon – she couldn't tell which. "Do you see something?"

Lillymon shrugged it off and tried not to shudder before turning back. The feeling did _not_ go away, but she did her best to push it down but still began listening intently to the surroundings just in case it was not something to be dismissed. "Nothing," she said quickly, trying to allay the nervousness that she could clearly see in the quivering Monitamon, who had wide and fearful eye images on their screens. "Can you display on your screen what your friend is seeing?"

"Moni," nodded E-Monitamon 2 and began to display an image of dark leaves which was shifting and getting lighter as the Monitamon that had ascended into the trees completed the last leg of the climb with ease and steadily clambered his way up until he was perched precariously on a thin branch that stuck out over the canopy and looking out at the top of the forest, while Lillymon and E-Monitamon-3 crowded round the image down below and stared at the sights with him.

"It looks a lot better up here," E-Monitamon-1's voice came through E-Monitamon-2's speakers.

And it did. Lillymon was mildly surprised to find that the top of the forest didn't look anything like it did down here. Here it was dank, scary and evil but up there everything was green, lush and, frankly, quite beautiful. It seemed the epitome of everything that Lillymon knew and loved about nature from the Digital World with thick, rich leaves rolling away into the distance in a dense cover of foliage of many different species and types and shades.

It seemed to defy belief that a forest as amazing as what she was seeing had all this shadow and terror at its base.

"It's incredible," she breathed.

"Yeah," E-Monitamon-3 agreed. "But I don't see an edge to it. Is there an edge to it?"

E-Monitamon-1 looked round and the image panned with his head movements. "Uh… no. No, I'm not seeing one. Looks like the trees roll on and on forever in any direction that I look in."

"Not particularly encouraging," Lillymon sighed. "Can you see anything else besides the trees?"

"Uh… hold on," the Monitamon continued to look around until its head snapped back like a double-take and it tried to focus on something it could see in the distance. Lillymon was mildly surprised when the image on E-Monitamon-2's face zoomed in – she had not been aware that the Monitamon possessed that ability.

Still, E-Monitamon-1 and therefore those down below could see something quite clearly in the distance, some huge rises of rock and stone that stretched out about the tree level in great, tall spires.

"Mountains?" E-Monitamon-3 mumbled. "Are those mountains over there?"

"Looks that way," E-Monitamon-1 confirmed. "Yep, I definitely think that those are mountains."

"Mountains are a better starting place than anything that we've had so far," Lillymon let loose a slight breath of relief. "I vote that we head towards them. Anything's better than simple staying around here, don't you think?"

"Yeah," E-Monitamon-3 agreed. "Good idea. Maybe some of the others are there too."

"Let's hope so," Lillymon said with false brightness. "Monitamon, can you come back down? We need to keep going."

"Coming," E-Monitamon-1 cried and E-Monitamon-2 shut his screen off once again. Lillymon looked back up into the tree and then, sure enough, she saw the smaller Digimon descend to the ground through the branches, though he did slip up once and fall several feet down before he managed to catch himself again and continue.

"Let's go," Lillymon nodded with slightly more enthusiasm than she actually felt. "Which way were those mountains?"

"This way," E-Monitamon-1 pointed, though with the complete lack of bearings that the forest brought with it Lillymon had no idea which direction of the compass he was pointing towards. Still, she set off in the direction of his hand and the three Monitamon followed on, overtaking her and leaping into the trees once again with a little more energy than before, filled with extra vigour at the prospect of an actual destination.

But Lillymon paused and turned back again briefly, eyes narrowing as she squinted into the shadows of the trees. That feeling of being watched had lessened slightly from the spike that had happened before but it was still there, squirming at the back of her brain like a parasitic worm. She shivered, both at the feeling and the mental image and turned to walk on, hurrying as best she could in the thorny undergrowth to keep up with the Monitamon.

And, after a few seconds of silence, something in the shadows behind her shifted, slinking behind the trunk of a nearby tree with a very faint hissing noise.

* * *

And so they carried on yet again through the forbidding trees, in much the same fashion as before, but this time knowing what lay ahead of them, albeit a good distance away. The mountains were a solid place to begin a proper search, Lillymon was constantly telling herself. It was their best option. Their only real option at the moment.

She had realised a while ago with a sense of uncomfortability that she had somehow become something like a leader in this little group. And she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. The Monitamon were looking up to her, seeming to expect her to look after them, though Lillymon had no idea why. They might be the size of toddlers but the Monitamon had vastly more field experience than she did.

She put it down to fear. They were scared and afraid and wanted somebody to look up to and at the moment Lillymon seemed to be the only viable option to fill that niche. But she had no experience at making decisions like this and certainly no experience at leadership. Shoutmon or Jijimon had always been the leaders of the Green Zone where she had grown up. Not her. She just cheered everyone up.

But she knew she had to try. If the Monitamon were hoping for her to get them out of trouble then she would have to do her best but… she didn't think she was up to the task. She was just as scared as they were, perhaps even more so. And not least because that feeling of being watched was, ever so slowly, getting stronger.

The flower fairy paused every so often to peer round at the shadows and listen, but she never saw anything but darkness and never heard anything but the noises the Monitamon made as they moved along, so she stepped on, satisfied but still thoroughly creeped out. Perhaps this was just the forest having an effect on her but she couldn't know that for sure.

She would quite like some answers about this forest.

Pity that there seemed to be none forthcoming.

* * *

Onward they went, ducking under branches and weaving around trunks, but once again they didn't seem to be making much headway. The mountains were probably further away than they had looked, but they had no way of telling how much further.

Lillymon wished that someone else were here with them. Someone like Mervamon, who feared nothing, or Knightmon, who would use his own body as a shield if necessary, or Dorulumon, who's nonchalant attitude practically peeled off him and reassured everyone else by him merely being in the vicinity. But nobody was there. Nobody came. It was just them.

And therefore, Lillymon practically jumped out of her skin when one of the Monitamon suddenly let out a strangled but surprisingly high-pitched yelp. She had been scrutinising a nearby shadow that she could have sworn had moved at the time, but when the Monitamon screamed her head snapped around so quickly that she hurt her neck. She hurried forwards, leaping over an old log in a wall-vault and scrambling through a thorny bush that did its very best to impede her progress before she found what was going on and gasped.

The Monitamon, she could not tell which one, was suspended off the ground and hanging from one of the tree trunks by what appeared to be some sort of… well, she didn't really know what it was. Some fine white substance like the world's messiest net or sheet that appeared to have coated itself to the Monitamon's body and was also attached to the tree, causing the Monitamon to dangle upside-down, kicking and struggling as he tried to free himself.

The other two Monitamon stared in horror at what was going on before one of them had the sense to cry, **"FIRE SHOT!"** and shoot a stream of tiny flaming balls from the middle of its screen. They hit the substance at the place where it was attached to the tree and burned through it, releasing a horrible odour into the air. The trapped Monitamon screamed as it plummeted downwards and, without thinking, Lillymon dashed forwards and skidded to a halt just in time to grab him and catch him in her arms.

"Thanks, Lillymon," he said, revealing it to be E-Monitamon-3.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't think I was paying attention to where I was landing," he replied a bit sheepishly. "I was just bounding along and then suddenly I landed in a patch of this stuff and it stuck to me."

"It stuck to… ugh, hey!" Lillymon suddenly cried in alarm as tried to pull the Monitamon away and found the that stuff was now sticking to her green arm-gloves and hands as well. Instinctively she jerked it away, accidently dumping the Monitamon on the ground as she brushed the stuff away, peeling it off her sleeves only for it to envelop her hands and stick to them to. She waved her hands through the air in disgust in her attempt to dislodge it, but when that didn't work she quickly rubbed her hand against the trunk of the nearest tree.

This seemed to work better and white stuff stripped away, sticking to the tree and pulling itself from Lillymon's hands in a series of threads before Lillymon was free of the stuff. But poor E-Monitamon-3 was still coated in it and writhing on the floor as he attempted to shrug it off without it sticking his limbs together. Lillymon quickly bent down and began to help, peeling sticky chunks of it away and scraping it off against the tree and trying to contain her disgust at the way it felt against her hands.

The other two Monitamon had come down to watch with unease as Lillymon finally finished unravelling their brother from the stuff. "Phew," said Monitamon said. "I'm glad that's off," he said. "That had me worried there."

"Yeah, but… what is it?" E-Monitamon-1 asked.

Lillymon was about to scrape the last of it off, but before she did so she stopped and examined it, lifting it up to where she could see it better and picking at it with the fingers of her other hand. It pulled itself away from her hand as if it were determined to stick there for as long as it could. It came loosen in threads that were, considering their strength, incredibly fine indeed. Lillymon frowned. Where had she seen something like this before?

She scraped it off against the tree and said, "I don't know what it is. But I think…" she stopped, stiff as a board. That intense feeling of being watched had suddenly magnified by tenfold. Her back straightened as she looked around, searching the shadows once again for signs of anything else.

And this time, she definitely saw something. Something which was _not_ an illusion or a trick of the darkness. She definitely saw some of the shadows moving backwards slightly, pressing themselves deeper into the darkness. Lillymon had little time to look at them before they were gone but what she could see seemed to be rather… spindly. Something long and thin, like an appendage, but quickly gone before she had time for a proper look.

But around each one she could see tiny little glints of light, like small, beady eyes staring at her from the darkness before they shifted around out from behind the trees. And as Lillymon looked around, she could see several of them. Not just one or two, but possibly around ten, and all at different levels. Some of them were on the ground. A couple seemed to be coming from branches higher above. Some of them seemed to be on the trunks themselves before they scurried around the other side, too quick for Lillymon to make out their form.

And then it clicked. In her head. There had been one time, after the defeat of Bagramon, where she had joined one of Shoutmon's Xros Heart patrols through a different (and significantly less scary) forest in the Digital World, where they had run across something similar… no, the same… as the sticky stuff the Monitamon had fallen into, when they had encountered a large Dokugumon nest filled with…

…webs.

It was a web.

The Dokugumon had been relatively friendly, as were most Digimon at the time after the Bagra Army was destroyed, but something gave Lillymon the impression that whatever these creature were, as they were plainly not Dokugumon, they were not friendly at all.

And that was when the sound began. A fainting clicking noise seemed to be coming from the shadows now, and then it intensified and got louder, and began to spread, until it was coming from many directions at once, picking up in intensity and excitement as the shadows began to move again, but this time heading towards the group slowly but surely, seeming to check them out. It was still so frustratingly dark that Lillymon still couldn't make them out clearly, but now she did not really want to find out what they were.

The three Monitamon had noticed them by this point as well and they were currently stiffened up and shaking with fear, as if paralysed while they stared in horror at the oncoming shadows. Lillymon turned around and hissed, "Come on, we have to go!"

"What are they?" E-Monitamon-2 gasped.

"I don't know but come on!" Lillymon cried. "Come on! Now!" And she gave E-Monitamon-3 and unceremonious but light kick in the backside towards one of the few spots around them that were devoid of shifting shadows. The Monitamon got the message and yelped before haring off in that direction at high speed, followed by his comrades. And Lillymon was after them ducking and weaving through the ragged shrubbery as quickly as she could as the shadows closed in around them.

The moment they began running, the clicking sound built up even more. Clearly, whatever they were, they were getting excited at the prospect of a hunt and they began to move slightly faster. Lillymon threw a very brief glance over her shoulder to see the shadows roiling behind her, and something jump from one of the trees to the ground with many long a grasping legs to give pursuit.

And then she heard a voice. A hissing voice amongst all the clicking which froze her blood.

"Run, run, little flies. There's no way for you to escape our net."

Lillymon forced down a yell and increased her speed, leaping over logs and rocks around her as she pelted away as fast as her legs could take her, but the shadows merely picked up their pace as well and kept level with her, almost as if they were toying with her. Ever so slowly, they grew closer to her and no matter how much faster Lillymon strained to go they kept coming and coming.

Lillymon could not recall a time where she had attempted things such as she was doing now, but she was surprising herself at the moment. She flipped over a large log and fell into a skidding crouch to pass right underneath another that had been propped up in its fall, dodged around a bush and slipped through a tight squeeze between two trees that had grown very close together. In doing so, she accidentally knocked over a giant fungus of some description and, almost without thinking, she seized it by the stalk and spun around to fling it at the oncoming whatever-they-were.

The shadows skittered back from the fungus with high-pitched hisses that sounded like squeals, but the moment it landed, they merely passed over it and kept on coming.

Lillymon gritted her teeth and kept running. To her horror, she had lost sight of the Monitamon by this point – perhaps in their fear they had forgotten that she couldn't go as fast as them at present. But then, eventually, Lillymon stumbled upon a scene which brought her to a scraping halt with wide, horrified eyes.

The light was little better here than it had ever been, but Lillymon could clearly make out a large assortment of what were definitely webs now. They seemed to hang from just about every tree, and spread out across gaps in the foliage. They wrapped around the trunks like cloaks and spread right down the ground to cover parts of the floor in a layer of the stuff. She could see the amount of webbing getting denser the further into the trees her eyes looked and she knew right then, that she had stumbled right towards some kind of nest.

Which was exactly what the shadows had been aiming for, she guessed. They had been herding her into the trap, and she had walked right into it.

And she could see other shadows sitting among the webs – more easily discernible than the shadows behind her but definitely the same kind of shape. Fat, bulbous bodies with large heads could be seen amongst the webs, and each one had many, many long and grasping legs and it took Lillymon a second to count that each of them had exactly eight of them.

The clicking noise grew more insistent behind her and Lillymon turned back. Her heart tried to jump up her throat when she saw the shadowy mass had gotten closer to her now, close enough for her to make out the horrible pincer-like mouthparts of the creatures around, which was snapping together eagerly and making the clicking noise.

Lillymon swallowed and instinctively brought her hands together. She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane but she still didn't want to become a meal so she clasped her hands together. The yellow petal-like extensions on the ends of her gloves grew and extended outwards until they enveloped her hands and then peeled back like an opening flower to reveal the barrel of a gun or a cannon within. She held it up and pointed it shakily at the oncoming creatures.

"S-s-stop right there," she trembled, trying to keep her arms level and not really succeeding. "Don't come a step closer or I'll s-s-shoot you."

The shadows hesitated, but only for a second, before a hissing laugh came from one of them. "You think you can fool us with a little trickery?" it asked. "You have neither bow nor arrows. You cannot shoot us. You are defenceless."

"A Digimon is… never defenceless," Lillymon said with more mountains more bravery than she felt. "Y-y-y-you would do well to listen to me."

The shadows seethed and stepped forwards and Lillymon yelped and let loose a blast from her Flower Cannon. A large green energy blast pelted out of the tip and exploded forwards into the midst of the shadows. They shrieked in surprise and in the second that the energy blast was in existence it illuminated the entire scene and in that moment, Lillymon wanted to be sick. She had seen them clearly in that moment, with horrible hairy bodies and their eight long legs, fierce looking mandibles, abdomens that seemed to bob up and down slightly as they moved. And their eyes… their eyes were big. Much bigger than the glints had suggested they were. But they were black and round and, though she had not been able to pick out expression, she could definitely see the hunger in them.

Spiders.

Giant spiders. That was what they were. Not Dokugumon or Arukenimon or anything like that but, in their own way, many times worse than either of them.

The spiders proved to be agile and quick of their eight feet, bounding backwards at the blast of the cannon, but two of them were not quick enough and were hit head on. The cannon blast exploded and took them out instantly, vaporising their bodies and cratering the ground in the blast, leaving nothing but a couple of flying legs, one of which Lillymon had to duck under to avoid being hit in the face.

The spiders seethed, surprised at what had just happened, before the same spider voice as before chuckled and said, "Ah. Perhaps we underestimated you then. But I'm afraid you just made a big mistake. A blast like that will have alerted our brothers and sisters for miles around. You are right in the heart of our territory now. Can you fight us all off?"

"Of… of course," Lillymon growled, but without any real conviction or belief in her mind or voice.

The spider laughed again, and the clicking intensified once more. "It's quite clear that you're not experienced at this, female. Not experienced at all."

Lillymon swallowed, but she knew it was right. But a split second later there was a rustling in the branches above her and her head snapped up, only to see a huge eight-legged shape already falling towards her with mandibles outstretched.

Lillymon screamed and ducked, throwing herself into a roll and thanking the fates her wings were still tucked against her back. But she wasn't quick enough to evade the spider completely and as it landed one of its legs snagged her dress and its mandibles closed around one of her boots.

As she tried to scramble up the spider yanked back, pulling her off her feet and attempted to grapple her with its other horrible legs, but Lillymon desperately lashed out with her other foot and caught the spider in the face with a surprisingly vicious kick from someone of her stature. The spider's large eyes became the victim of the underside of her boot and it squealed, jerking backwards, but refusing to let go of her other boot.

It was therefore not surprising when it succeeded in pulling the boot off Lillymon's foot completely, allowing the Digimon to scramble backwards as the spider hissed, tossing the boot aside with disdain and advancing on her again. And this time others swarmed around it, closing in on her from different angles and more of them were beginning to descend downwards from the trees towards her, some on the trunks, some by long threads of silk with their legs groping towards her.

Lillymon might not be a warrior, but she did have some experience with fighting, albeit not much in comparison to the other members of Xros Heart. And in her desperation and fear some of her instincts kicked in and she began to desperately fight back against the incoming horde as best she could. She span around and kicked a spider that had gotten too close in the face, then jumped backwards as another tried to grab her in its mandibles, flattening herself against the ground as a third lunged at her in a flying leap, narrowly passing over her and crashing into another group of spiders in a tangle of flailing legs.

And Lillymon was off, desperately doing her best to keep the spiders at bay, leaping into a spinning corkscrew she didn't know she was capable of and booted another spider in the side of the head to knock it askew, lashing out with her other foot a second later to kick another in the fangs. Another reared up and splayed its legs, trying to bring itself down on her, but Lillymon span about and landed a double punch to the base of its exposed abdomen that sent it rolling backwards and rolling aside as another jumped right at her, snagging at her torso with its legs as it passed and spinning back around, trying to clamber over her and bite at her.

Lillymon yelped, seizing its waving palps and pushing them back frantically, struggling to keep the spider off her as it tried to enfold its other legs around her. It was larger than her and was clearly stronger, but Lillymon hurriedly reformed her Flower Cannon and shoved it into the spiders face, cringing as she let fly with a powerful blast that obliterated most of the spider on the spot. She danced backwards as other spiders pressed in around her, shooting off more blasts with the cannon to vaporise several more. She wished she could let rip with a full power blast, but at such close range the explosion was just as likely to damage her as the spiders if she did that.

More of the spiders coming in from above hesitated at she unleashed her barrage, causing the other spiders to back away from around her, before they decided to try and throw her off and dropped from their silken strings, falling down towards her en masse. Lillymon spun upwards just in time to see them coming and let loose a couple of cannon blasts upwards and blow several out of the air, but she was not quick enough to stop many others crashing down around her and slamming into her with their horrible hairy bodies.

She screamed as the weight of another spider pushed her to the ground and the other spiders around her immediately seized their chance, surging forwards like a black wave to try and grip at her. She struggled valiantly, punching one spider in the eye and kicking another bodily into the air with both her feet, but she felt their mandibles wrapping around her limbs as they raised fangs and, to her horror, what looked to be large stings on the ends of their rounded bodies.

"GET… OFF… ME!" She screamed and with a wrench that took the spiders off guard she surged back to her feet, yanking her second boot off and pulling her arm right out of one of the arm gloves she wore. She was a mess now, and everywhere she looked there were more spiders around her. She was completely surrounded. Trapped. No way out.

"We have you now," hissed a voice as the spiders tensed to spring at her.

"**FIRE SHOT!"** screamed a voice from above. There were flashes of red and Lillymon looked up to see a couple of spiders shrieking as they were hit with small pellets of flame and fell to the ground around her, flailing wildly and causing the other spiders to zip backwards in alarm. In blurs of motion, the Monitamon darted down from the trees until they stood in a ring around her.

"Monitamon!" cried Lillymon. "You came back!"

"We couldn't leave you," cried E-Monitamon-2.

The spiders hissed, confused and agitated, not sure what to make of these new arrivals. Lillymon spotted this and seized her arm glove where it lay on the floor, pulling it back over her arm and shouting, "Quick, hit them now before they attack again!"

"**WATER DRAGON!"** cried E-Monitamon-1, and stream of water burst from his screen and appeared to attempt to take the shape of a dragon, but not quite manage it, and crash over the nearest spiders. It did not especially hurt them but they were unused to being attacked in their manner and water certainly didn't agree with them so they hissed and scampered backwards and away.

"**WIND WHEEL!"** yelled E-Monitmon-2 and blew a small spiral of compressed air at another group which took them off guard and managed to bowl them over, while others behind them retreated.

"**LIGHTNING FLASH!"** E-Monitamon-3 shouted and produced a rod from nowhere which he thrust forwards and several jolts of electricity lanced from the tip and zapped into more of the spiders, to a similar result.

Lillymon looked up to see several more spiders still descending towards them from above so she cried, **"FLOWER WREATH!"** and lashed out a long rope of flowers that seized one spider around the neck section. It shrieked in alarm and Lillymon hauled it to one side like it was on a lasso and sent it careening into several of its fellow arachnids.

Whatever the spiders had expected, it had not been this, and they began to back away slowly and warily, keeping their eyes on the attacking creatures. The Monitamon kept pelting them with small elemental attacks, but for all their enthusiasm the ninjas were not very powerful. All out attacking was not their strength at all, and the spiders seemed to be more startled than phased by what they were doing.

Lillymon was a different story though. She reformed the Flower Cannon and levelled it at the thickest group of spiders. They shrieked, knowing what was coming, and immediately they shrank back even further, ducking behind trees and out of sight. They retreated into the shadows still further and clambered up trees.

Lillymon felt her confidence grow slightly. These might be terrifying creatures but they didn't have the durability of an enemy Digimon. They couldn't take a hit from her cannon. Maybe everything was going to be alright after…

The thought died in her mind as her head swung around. She had no idea how many spiders had been trying to attack her but in all reality there had not been that many. Perhaps fifteen to twenty including all the ones that were falling from the trees. But the spiders were not retreating, just hiding from her cannon.

And now she knew why.

They were waiting for back-up.

And in approximately half a minute, they would have it.

Lillymon stared in disbelief at the area with all the webs. A large proportion of those webs were now obscured by hundreds of thousands of scuttling legs and swollen bodies. During the fighting she hadn't noticed it, but the spider from before had not been joking when it said that she had drawn attention. The sounds of combat and the promise of prey were drawing in hundreds of the spiders. They were thundering across the ground towards her like a flash flood. They were scrambling through the trees and across their webs like… like… well, like enormous spiders. There really wasn't a more apt description.

Lillymon's heart was in her mouth and she knew there was no way that she could fight off all of them. As far as she was concerned it was a miracle she had survived so far. She would have already fallen if the Monitamon hadn't rushed back. But she could throw dozens of cannon blasts into that oncoming army and barely make a dent in its numbers, and then the rest of them would swarm over her and the Monitamon. They had their prey in their sights now, and they were more determined to get it than ever.

Scuttling noises caused her to swing around and she saw the webbed area was not the only place they were coming from. They were coming from every direction, each one eager for a piece of Digimon.

She was not the only one to notice. The Monitamon had frozen up again, their heads the only things they were moving as they stared wildly back and forth at the looming storm of hairy limbs. They had twenty seconds, if that, before the spiders reached them.

Lillymon made her decision in that second. She was not Shoutmon, but she had to do her best to protect the Monitamon. They were better at stealth than her. They could slip away unnoticed. She would not have such an easy time of it, but she had to try.

"Go!" she shouted to the Monitamon. "Go! Get out of here now!"

"But what about you?" one of them cried as Lillymon turned around. She grimaced as she unfurled her wings from her back once more. The damaged wing was still not completely healed over and the end sagged and flopped a little, but she would have to make do.

"Never mind about me!" Lillymon yelled. "I'll draw them off. You three run! Go and find the others! Escape!"

"But…!"

"Don't argue, just go!" And Lillymon waited no longer before sending her wings into a blur of motion and launching herself into the air. She was slightly off balance compared to normal and hurriedly tried to correct herself, but she ignored the pain in her wing and shot away through the trees, throwing a quick glance behind her to see what had happened to the Monitamon. There was no sign of them, so she could only hope that they had followed her instruction but right now she needed to focus on keeping the spiders occupied and simultaneously trying to escape herself.

She was vaguely aware that she had left her boots behind, but right now she had bigger concerns than the fact that she was barefoot. The spiders were after her already, picking up speed as they hurtled towards her from all angles, hurrying to intercept her – to cut her off and snare her in their trap.

Almost immediately, spiders began to leap from the trees close to her in an attempt to catch her as she shot past. But Lillymon was one of the nimblest airborne Digimon that there were, even with a half-injured wing. She spiralled down underneath a screeching spider and spun herself furiously to the side to avoid another that shot past her flank, before curving straight up and zooming vertically skyward as several more lunged at her and fell short, falling to the ground in heaps.

It was then that Lillymon realised, to her horror, that the canopy would be too dense for her to fly through here. There was no space for her to escape above the tree-line. If she wanted to get away completely, she was going to have to find a hole in the foliage large enough for her body to squeeze through. As it was, the leafs and branches interlaced so tightly it was like an impenetrable ceiling, forcing her back down to avoid the claw-like branches that seemed to be trying to snare her.

And the spiders continued jumping. One jumped up at her from a lower branch with fangs bared and she almost didn't spot it in time, but when she did she twisted frantically on the spot until her foot caught it in the underside and sent it tumbling away. Her momentum caused her to slam her back painfully into the trunk of a tree, but she was forced to push herself off a split second later to avoid the spider that fell through the space where she had been and she darted on. Two more spiders scuttled up a branch close to her and dove at her within a second of each other, but Lillymon threw herself into an aerial forward flip, carrying herself straight over the first spider and landing on the second's back, running up its body and diving off its rear end, wings snapping out to catch her once again as she plummeted towards the ground.

Several spiders above her made the mistake of trying to jump at her at the same time as she levelled off close to the ground, but Lillymon zoomed ahead too quickly for them and inches from the undergrowth layer, causing them to crash into one another and land in sprawling heaps, impeding the progress of the others that were still running after her on the ground.

Lillymon allowed herself, just for one second, to smirk, but her quick eyes picked out the shapes of many more spiders surging towards her from dead ahead at various levels of the trees. Her face hardened as she swung her way towards them, before altering her trajectory on a dime and zipping to the left instead. The spiders, surprised, attempted to race after her, but Lillymon span around again, arresting herself by planting her feet on the trunk of a tree and springing away from it, shooting through the gap in the spiders before they could figure out what just happened.

She rounded a tree to try and throw them off the scent, and almost collided with another spider that was hanging from its rear end with legs splayed. She shrieked and backpedalled immediately, but the spider latched onto her with its legs and attempted to reel her in. Lillymon grunted and lashed out with a Flower Wreath, the long flowery tendril wrapping around a thick branch behind her. She hauled on the Wreath with all her strength and popped free of the spider's grasp like a cork for a bottle. She screamed as she lost control of her flight and fell towards the ground.

Fortunately, she was still holding the Wreath. And although it had not been the plan, she ended up swinging on it, Tarzan-style. There were spiders waiting for her down below and they reared up to seize her, and in a moment of madness Lillymon launched herself into a spin, lashing out with legs to either side and slamming the spiders with each of her feet like a corkscrew to knock them to one side and send them rolling.

But unfortunately, as one of them was flipped onto its back, Lillymon felt a sharp stab of pain in one ankle. She gritted her teeth and used the momentum of the swinging tendril to fling herself back into the air, but as she looked down she could see that there was a small wound in her foot. The spider's stinger must have nicked her there when it flipped over. She grimaced. It wasn't a serious wound, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Looking around her, the spiders were still coming in their hundreds.

And so she flew on, attempting to pull out every trick in the book to keep out of the way of the hungry arachnids. She wasn't sure whether to stick to the trees or try the more open spaces, so she tried a little of both, launching herself through a crook in a pair of branches that was only just wide enough for her and causing the spider that had jumped at her moments before to squeal as it ploughed into it.

She slalomed quickly around a set of trees, passing trunk after trunk as the spiders scrambled down each one towards her. But then she spotted several others dead ahead, preparing an ambush and threw out another Flower Wreath, using it like a swing-ball string to whip herself back around the trunk she had just passed and away in a completely different direction. But now the forest was beginning to get denser, and no matter how fast she went it seemed that the main bulk of the spider swarm was always just behind her.

She squeezed through a gap in a pair of trees by flipping herself side on so her chest and back narrowly missed scraping the bark and saw a spider leap straight at her face, its huge hungry eyes staring right into hers. Instinct seemed to set in and Lillymon stopped flapping completely, dropping like a stone as the spider sailed overhead and crashed into the trees while Lillymon furiously started her flapping again and levelled off close to the ground. About a dozen spiders were just behind her, palps and front legs reaching out the try and grab her feet, and Lillymon grimaced as she piled on all the speed that she could muster, aiming herself straight at the trunk of another tree.

At the last second she shot straight upwards, so close to the trunk that her face and chest missed rubbing against it by an inch. Several of the spiders crashed into the trunk with sickening crunches, but several of them clambered over the bodies of their comrades and motored up the trunk after her as if nothing had happened. But then, another spider flung itself downwards at her from above, like a hairy many-legged shadow seeking to totally envelop her world.

"Not today," Lillymon hissed and flipped herself over and threw herself backwards in a series of tumbling flips. The two sets of spiders crashed into each head on and the one which had jumped carried the others towards the ground in a squealing, messy heap.

Lillymon took a moment to catch herself but in that moment, a particularly inventive spider tried a different technique. As Lillymon turned herself around to keep flying, it leapt backwards off a nearby branch with a line of webbing still attached to it, and swung down and under from it, much like Lillymon had done with the Flower Wreath earlier. Lillymon almost swung straight into its path as it spread its legs to envelop her.

She gasped and flung her legs upwards, forcing herself into a that carried her up and over, the flower on her head just shooting between its two outstretched front legs and narrowly missing its groping mandibles with the stamen that poked out the top. Lillymon couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as she pulled out of that one just in time.

But then she ploughed straight into the silken thread that the spider was swinging from and yelled as it glued itself to her knee. She was jerked backwards as the silk was pulled free of the tree and she suddenly had the added weight of a giant spider dragging her straight down towards the ground. The Digimon gasped as the was literally yanked downwards at the additional weight and redoubled her already blurring wings, desperately trying to keep herself aloft.

The spider did not weigh as much as she had expected but it was still heavy and continued to pull her downwards. It crashed into the ground and Lillymon tried to keep going, hauling it across the ground, but then it managed to latch onto the trunk of a tree and hold itself fast, jerking Lillymon to a stop. She struggled valiantly, but the line was stuck fast and the spider turned its large eyes towards her, filled with malice and excitement at the prospect of claiming its prize. Then it reached up with several legs and literally began to reel the webbing in, with Lillymon attached to the other end.

Lillymon kicked and thrashed but it had no effect, and the line was too far down for her to reach without bending over, which would cause her to fall straight down. A couple of other spiders scurried down towards her and Lillymon twisted aside to avoid another that tried to claim her first by jumping from above. And the other spiders was closing the gap that she had made with her stunt before. They'd all be on her in seconds.

No choice. Lillymon slammed her hands together and form the Flower Cannon again, letting loose with a colossal blast that disintegrated the spider and most of the line attached to her knee. The snap-back from the effect of not being pulled down any more took Lillymon completely off guard and she was catapulted through the air with the sudden momentum, flipping around uncontrollably for several hundred metres until she crashed rather painfully into a tangle of branches nearby. She seized them in her arms and clung on, gasping for breath and clutched at her winded stomach. She winced as it panged at her and she looked quickly over one shoulder and saw the spider horde was gathering around her.

One spider landed on the branches right next to her and jumped for her. Lillymon swiftly released her grip on the branches and fell, catching herself with her wings just in time to shoot off again, just clearing the grasping legs of the spiders below and just in time to avoid the spider that fell past her with a shower of broken branches. She gritted her teeth as she flew harder with the horde all around her now, gathering above and below on either side and pressing closer and closer in on all sides.

Now they were able to keep pace with her, because Lillymon realised with a sickened feeling that she was slowing down. Not only was her injured wing now doing some serious complaining, and Lillymon was sure she was only making the injury worse, but now she was beginning to feel slightly woozy. Everything blurred a little bit and the cut on her foot was really beginning to sting.

It was only a small cut, but the spider must still have been able to inject some sort of paralytic venom or other substance into her through it. Not enough to stop her or knock her out but enough to slow her down.

She forced herself on, the clicking of mandibles growing stronger all around her, accompanied by the sounds of a thousand scurrying legs that thundered against tree and earth alike. She ducked under a branch, flung herself upwards and over another tangle of them nearby and turned a sharp corner to make for a gap in the spiders that she had just noticed. She zipped through moments before they snagged her feet…

Only to find more spiders in front of her. There were always more spiders. Everywhere. No matter where she turned, there were spiders. But she could not stop now. Not even for a second or one of them would grab her. Turning instantly and her wing practically screaming at her, she shot away just as several spiders crashed down on the branches below her.

She grimaced. Running wasn't going to do the job anymore. She needed to both run and fight at the same time. So she tried a tactic she had never attempted before, and formed more long flowery tendrils from nowhere which she grasped with her hands and held like bullwhips, waiting for the rushing spiders to make their move.

One jumped at her from above, but she span about and knocked it aside with a lash of one whip, and she twisted around again to lash out behind her with the other to catch another squarely in the face between the eyes. She twisted about again and flung out both whips at the same time to belt another pair that were trying to spring from behind in the stomachs, and she twirled around like a ballerina, her pink dress petals streaming out around her as the tendrils spun around like the rotor blades of a helicopter to pummel several others back the way that they had just come.

She flew on, attempting to twirl the whips around her as she did so, and she was pleasantly surprised by how well she was doing with them. She gripped them tightly as she turned to shoot straight up, gaining another idea about what to do with them. She managed to gain height on the spiders and threw the tendrils out again, wrapping them around a pair of branches each and then flying backwards, stretching the tendrils as far as they could go without snapping before planting her feet on a branch and looking down, waiting for the spiders to ascend.

And ascend they did, scurrying up the trunks of the trees towards her like the swarm they were. Every single tree-trunk within fifty yards was a broiling, writhing mass of spiders that were clambering up and over the trunks and over one another in a mass of movement. Lillymon could see them more clearly now, closer to the canopy as they were and she definitely did not like what she saw. Every single set of eight eyes was aimed directly at her, and the mandibles clicked louder as they got closer, thinking her to be cornered.

But, as the first one came within a few feet of her, Lillymon released the grip on the branch with her feet and reeled in the Flower Wreaths. Combined with the snap-back that came from going from stretched back to normal and Lillymon's own addition of reeling them in made them act like a giant catapult. Lillymon shot out across the trees and over the spiders faster than she could ever hope to fly normally, fired like a ball from a cannon across the forest.

She couldn't help it. She actually laughed in exhilaration, despite her relative dizziness and the pain in her wing. The spiders fell behind rapidly as she let go of the tendrils and allowed herself to be hurled away through the trees, rolling aside to avoid one tree which was blocking her path and then throwing her wings into motion again, ignoring the protests of the injured tip which was flapping more awkwardly than ever.

Lillymon finally decided to add the final touch and spun around so she was flying backwards, forming the Flower Cannon once more. And then she let rip. She was firing blindly at where she knew the spiders to be, but since there were so many of them she knew that she would hit some of them. In rapid succession, she offloaded eight shots before she twisted around once more to keep on flying. She didn't wait to see if they landed, but she heard the explosions behind her and the sound of splintering wood and squealing spiders.

As flew on, descending in height as she did so and listening for the sounds of spiders behind her. She could still hear the scurrying and the clicking but they had receded some way back. Quite some way back actually. She had done it. She had gained a great lead on them with the catapult trick. They were still chasing her and she was still far slower than she would normally be but she was no longer forced to dodge any of them as they came flying at her.

Perhaps things were really going to be alright after all.

Now she needed to focus on escaping from the forest completely. She needed to find a gap in the trees that was large enough for her body to fly through, but there hadn't been a good many of those around since they had even started the walk through the forest. But she needed to find one before the spiders, with their seemingly limitless energy, caught up to her, which might be sooner than she would have liked due to the venom dulling her senses.

She searched wildly as she powered on, the sound of the pursuing spiders growing slightly louder in her ears as they motored after her. She had to give them credit – they were certainly persistent. But come on, she didn't have time for that. Look for light. Look for light. It was still daytime so if she could find light she would find a hole. And if she found a hole she could escape.

And then what? Had the Monitamon managed to get away at all? She hoped so, and she decided to head for the mountains as soon as she found a spot in the sun and healed her wing up. Hopefully she'd meet them there. If not… well, hopefully she'd meet them there.

Just then a spell of dizziness from the venom inside her caused her to flag and effectively 'stumble' in the air, her wings slowing down as she slumped over and almost tumbled a couple of times, pausing briefly and leaning against a branch and shaking her head before she threw herself onwards, knowing the spiders would have gained some ground. But things were more blurry than they had been before, more distorted and fuzzy. Thankfully the effect was not getting any worse so the venom was not enough to paralyse her completely but she needed to get out of here quickly all the same.

Only then did the thought occur to her and she almost smacked herself in the head for not thinking of it sooner. She didn't need to find a hole in the canopy – she could just create one herself with a couple of blasts from her cannon. Yes, that would be destroying nature but right now Lillymon needed to survive. Ugh, she really wasn't leader material if she had let something so completely obvious slip her notice. It was the simplest idea in the world!

She quickly glanced over her shoulder. The spiders were gaining again, the shadows writhing and thrashing with the movements of their bodies, and Lillymon was pretty sure there were more of them than ever now.

She turned back.

She screamed.

She desperately tried to backpedal but it was too late. She had only looked over her shoulder for a second, but in her semi-dazed state she had not seen what was right in front of her before she turned her head and when she turned back she was too close to do anything. Mere milliseconds after the scream left her mouth she hurtled straight into the enormous spider web that was stretched between the trees before her.

Instantly she was coated in the sticky stuff, her body pulling many of the threads loose from the tree that they were attached to and causing them to snap back and lash around her like great stick ropes. One arm was immediately immobile and pinned against her side, her face and torso smeared with the webbing. She screamed as her injured wing was bent backwards further than ever, completely undoing all the healing that it had been trying to do over the last day, and also because her lower right wing had met with a similar fate. Another of her wings folded over completely and was pinned against her back, and the other one continued to buzz desperately for several moments before it too was snared by the threads which coated it like a silken cocoon.

Lillymon's flightpath was immediately arrested and she dropped straight downwards, thrashing and squirming desperately. But again, she was jerked to a halt on the way down, until she was dangling upside down from the threads which had not come free of their anchoring, which happened to be most of them. She gasped, her heart stopping for almost five whole seconds before promptly trying to escape from her body it was pounding so hard. She was caught. She was trapped.

With one arm pinned to her side and the other caught in the web she couldn't bring them together to form the Flower Cannon. Both of her legs had been snared and pulled together, covered in the sticky stuff. And she now had a clear view of the spider horde rushing towards her, triumphant clicks and screeches coming from every one of them.

Lillymon thrashed and strained and bucked, unable to move any of her limbs, but the more she pulled and writhed around in the sticky netting the more it seemed to cover her up and envelop her. But she couldn't stop. She just couldn't not yet. She kicked and writhed harder than she'd ever had to before and eventually, she succeeded in snapping off more of the strings from the trees above and, eventually, tumbling to the ground in a heap.

But she was still totally ensnared in the web around her. None of her wings were working anymore, stuck fast amongst the goop. She desperately threw out an arm and strained to pull it free, to seize a rock or a stick, anything that she could use to defend herself.

But it was too late.

A spider fell on her, its hair-covered limbs encasing her almost as much as the webbing which was plaster to her body. Lillymon screamed and tried to kick, but her legs were stuck fast to the ground. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the spider's gnashing mouthparts inches from her face. And then there were others, all around her, closing in around her and piling in as best they could, and Lillymon was totally and utterly helpless against them as they latched onto every single part of her body with their hook-like feet. There was so much clicking that she thought she might go deaf and she knew the chase was over. They had her.

But now they were not interested in biting her. Lillymon was surprised when they began to manipulate her body with their feet. Working together, the pulled her wings down to their resting places against her back, pressed her legs together and folded her arms behind her back. And then they began to roll her over and over in the dirt, one of the largest spiders standing over her and helping to roll her while it extruded more sticky webbing from its rear end.

Lillymon squealed. They were binding her, wrapping her up even further in the webbing they naturally produced and plastering her with it. More spiders joined in and, in about half a minute, Lillymon was almost completely encased in the stuff from her neck to her bare toes. Her legs were pinned together by the silken threads along their entire length – they even successfully bound her big toes together with it somehow. Her arms were folded behind her over the tops of her wings, pressing them against her back and making flight even more implausible, each wrists and clenched fist individually wrapped and pinned to the opposite elbow.

The spiders were clever. They had worked out that Lillymon's cannon only worked if she could place her hands together and they weren't prepared to take that risk. And by encasing her fists she couldn't summon her Flower Wreaths either.

With a sense of utter despair, Lillymon realised that she was completely and utterly helpless in the grasp of all these predatory invertebrates. She was entirely cocooned in the web, like a mummy or a chrysalis right from her feet to her neck, leaving only her head left. Lillymon wanted to cry, wanted to scream. So she did. She had failed and now there was nothing that she could do. Nothing at all.

The big spider that had done most of the wrapping stood over her, legs splayed on either side of her as she lay in the dirt on her back. It lowered its head down right into her faces, its gnashing mandibles a hairs breadth from her eyes, its expressionless face staring impassively into her own.

"Let go of me!" Lillymon cried through her tears in one last spark of defiance. "Let me go now!"

The spider, in reply, stepped further over until its rear end was over Lillymon's face. Lillymon froze, wandering if it was going to sting her, but it merely squirted more webbing at her. Lillymon's mouth was suddenly filled with the stuff and she retched, violently forcing down the urge to hurl as more webbing wrapped over her lower face, sticking there and forcing the webbing already stuffed in her mouth the remain there. The spider used its back legs to wrap it further around the back of her head, completely silencing her in a thick gag of silk and leaving only her eyes and head-flower exposed to the air.

"Let you go?" the spider clicked in an amused voice. "Oh no, my dear. That would never do. However, you're the most interesting thing we've ever snared before. I've never seen anything like you before, and never seen anything do what you did today. In fact, this occasion might be special enough for you to gain an audience with the Queen herself."

There was a crescendo of clicking all around her and all Lillymon could do was make a pathetically muffled, "Mmmmpppphhh!" noise through the silken wrapping over her mouth as she tried, and failed, to scream in despair.

* * *

Am I evil? Tell me I'm evil. I do know one person who is eviller, but I've still got plenty of evil within me too, and it seems like the terrible cliffhangers might be beginning to return. And, unfortunately, there are many, many chapters ahead before we shall return to vicinity of Mirkwood to find out what becomes of our little flower fairy and the missing Monitamon. That's the problem with having so many characters stretched out all over the place. Once they start meeting up again things will be more consistent, but for now we'll have long breaks before we hear from most of them again.

I'm going to London for a couple of days to visit relatives as of tomorrow, so I should start writing the next chapter of Quest of the Gods as of Wednesday. After that, we'll have to see. But see you soon, everybody.

* * *

Next time…

As Greymon and Revolmon carry on through the green lands to the South, the both of them not only have to figure out what is going on, but also deal with their fellow traveller, Bastemon, who is far from used to this sort of thing. They also have no idea that they are being watched from the cover of the bushes. But by who?

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 14 : The Pampered Princess**


	14. The Pampered Princess

Blimey. You guys were REALLY impatient this time, weren't you? I think that I got about five people asking me where I was, or if I'd died or something, when I was going to update again, and it's only been three weeks since I updated my last story. Needless to say I am sorry about taking so long – I've been relatively busy with preparations for going back to uni and meeting relatives for the last time in a while and suchlike, so this chapter took much longer than I was hoping it would. Plus, I discovered the anime Fairy Tail, which attempted to absorb me into watching it a lot and succeeded. Regardless, I am now back at university, which means that the writing should soon pick up again as soon as I get back into the swing of writing properly. Once I do, hopefully I will be updating each story every other two days like I was before.

Plus, this chapter was quite difficult to write for a number of reasons, largely because it involves something which I am not very good at doing. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it regardless and I can guarantee that the next update will be much faster.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 14:- The Pampered Princess**

* * *

There were many things that Greymon prided himself on. His strength, both in terms of physical muscle and in terms of power, was the main one. Several of the other lesser things he was proud of were his calm attitude and level head, his ability to adapt quickly to certain situations and certainly the friends that he had made during his time as a warrior of Blue Flare.

He still remembered the time where he and Kiriha had met for the first time. It had been a fairly different circumstance from the meeting of Taiki and Shoutmon. For one thing, Kiriha had already been in the Digital World, having been brought there by Bagramon himself to act as a General for the Bagra Army. Kiriha had been wondering lost in the Mesozoic Zone, known for its wide variety of Dinosaur and similarly related Digimon.

The general attitude of the creatures of the Mesozoic Zone was that the strongest were the ones that survived. That was the law of the jungle, so they had never seen any reason why it should be different. This had been part of the reason why they had been caught flat-footed when the Bagra Army had invaded. Each of the groups of Digimon had always led solitary existences, never relying on any but their own kind, and Greymon had been considered one of the strongest of that Zone. Few of the other Digimon would have dared to bother him on his worst day.

But the Bagra Army had been different. They had worked together, albeit with some antagonism on occasion, and had stormed across the Zone in an attempt to find its Code Crown, slaying anything that stood in their path.

Greymon had encountered them and taken several of them out, but had been slightly injured in the process. Not much, but enough to give him a slight limp. And that had been when he met Kiriha.

The blond-haired kid had been under attack himself at the time. The Gaossmon who would later become a part of the Blue Flare Army had mistaken him as an enemy and were surrounding him on all sides, trying to get at him. It wouldn't have been much of a contest under most circumstances – the sheer number of Gaossmon would have overwhelmed Kiriha instantly if they had really gone for it.

But the Gaossmon had been intrigued by Kiriha and slightly wary, unsure of what he was supposed to be. Not to mention Kiriha had gotten hold of a branch and was swinging it like a mace, keeping the Gaossmon at bay.

There had been no fear in Kiriha's eyes. Only anger. And perhaps it had been that lack of fear which had drawn Greymon to Kiriha when he had spotted what was going on. Even when confronted with the massive dinosaur, Kiriha had been with very little fear, yelling at Greymon that he was strong and he would not back down from a bunch of 'overgrown lizards.'

Greymon had been further intrigued, and any thought of taking this human for a meal was banished from his mind. The desire in both of them to become stronger quickly became apparent as they conversed, and before long Greymon decided that he actually liked this little guy, which had been a bizarre concept in itself at the time – he'd never really liked anybody before that. He'd never needed to.

Then there had been the explosions which had distracted both of their attentions. Greymon had snarled, remembering the presence of the Bagra Army and had stomped off, limping a little, to find out what was going on, Kiriha following on behind him. And that had also been the first time that Greymon had met MailBirdramon, for it was he that the Bagra Army were attacking. He had made his home atop a large plateau which was being aerially bombarded by Pteramon while a phalanx of Tankmon were firing up at him with their cannons. Greymon had seen MailBirdramon before, but had never talked to him. But right now that had not mattered. These creatures were interlopers in their Zone, and Greymon had joined the battle himself.

Neither he nor MailBirdramon had co-ordinated their attack with one another. They had just unleashed everything they had at the enemy, working separately and getting results, but certainly not watching one another's backs. Their attacking had been purely selfish, and they were both paying the price for acting alone, even despite the large number of creatures that they were decimating in the process.

Then Kiriha had taken charge. On seeing how powerful both Greymon and MailBirdramon were, and desiring to become stronger himself, he had remembered what the voice that had given him his Xros Loader had told him about the DigiXros. And in his first moment as a General, the process had begun, and suddenly Greymon and MailBirdramon found their bodies being merged with one another to form the incredibly powerful MetalGreymon.

Working together had been a brand new concept for both of them. It had never even occurred to them to watch one another's backs. But as they shared their mind and body in their new combined form, they suddenly felt the strength of the other flowing through them and they realised, for the first time, the value of a team-mate.

MetalGreymon, with his classic Giga Destroyer, had decimated the Bagra Army that day, travelling with Kiriha to take out the leader – an Allomon which had just obtained the Code Crown. Naturally they took it back from him and, after a visit from the then-mysterious Nene, they too had learned the purpose of the Code Crowns and, after little thought, Kiriha had decided on his quest to find them all.

And Greymon and MailBirdramon, both feeling a certain kinship with Kiriha and now with each other, had readily agreed to go with him, as had the Gaossmon, who had watched the whole thing. That had been how Blue Flare had formed, and they had set about tearing their own way through the Digital World until their eventual goal and mindsets had been altered by Taiki and Shoutmon of Xros Heart.

They had recruited other members of their army along the way. Deckerdramon had, of course, come from the Forest Zone. Cyberdramon had been a renegade from the Dragon Zone who had refused to bow to the Bagra Army even though they had already taken his Zone. And the Bombmon had been residents of the Factory Zone who had been sabotaging various parts of the factory and seriously annoying the Bagra Army members who ran the place.

But through all that, Greymon had only ever really worked with people of similar mind to himself. People who were straightforward and sensible, who spoke little and focused solely on the battle in hand. And then, when teaming up with Xros Heart, while their views on certain issues had been different, they too had been relatively easy to stay alongside. They were not demanding, they were not annoying. They were fighters – warriors all. At least the ones that usually stayed out of the Xros Loaders.

Bastemon, the cat princess, had not been one of those Digimon. She had spent the majority of her time in the Xros Loader. Greymon had encountered her the first time in the Lake Zone where she lived, as had Kiriha and MailBirdramon. Even then they had all found her bizarre, frustrating and a little unnerving. None of them had had experience at dealing with people like this – Bastemon had fawned over Kiriha, spent most of her time falling asleep when they were trying to talk to her and generally being unhelpful and just plain strange.

That had been a circumstance that they could not just blast their way through, and they hadn't the foggiest idea how to cope with it. In the end, they hadn't. Taiki had. And they had moved on.

After that, Greymon had had nothing to do with Bastemon. He hadn't even known she had joined Xros Heart until she had appeared in the Sword Zone with the rest of Taiki's team to help free Shoutmon X5B from one of Tactimon's attacks. And the only other times Greymon had seen her be used after that was to DigiXros with Ballistamon to either free several of them, including Greymon himself, from Olegmon's mind control chant, and also in the final battle against the Bagra Army since Shoutmon had been 'dead' at that point.

Even during the five years after that, Greymon had never really associated with the red-headed cat princess. He'd had a few conversations with her when she'd been awake and he'd been in some of his more talkative moods, and of course he had been generally friendly, but for the most part they were had little to do with one another.

This meant that one thing Greymon did not have going for him was patience. He'd rarely needed it. All the people he normally spoke to and fought with were to the point and swift. Bastemon was not. And now that they were stranded in a strange place with no clue where they were together, Bastemon was seriously beginning to drive him up the wall.

And he had neither the patience nor the practice to cope with it.

* * *

He was already beginning to regret his offer to allow Bastemon to ride on his shoulders. Bastemon might have been intending to do something like keep watch up there, but there was very little that she could see that Greymon couldn't himself. And, more importantly, she kept falling asleep, and that was getting extraordinarily annoying because every time she did, Greymon had to slow his pace down and try and make sure that she stayed balanced up there and didn't fall off, which was extremely difficult to do when she attempted to curl into a ball and catnap.

Several times, one of her long-clawed paws slipped over the side of Greymon's horned head and came to rest over one of his eyes, effectively obscuring his vision out of one side of his head. He growled in frustration whenever this happened, and at one point, she somehow managed to cover _both_ of his eyes with one front paw and one back paw and he had to stop completely before he walked into something and Revolmon had to wake her up, which was, apparently, not an easy thing to do.

Greymon was quite grateful for Revolmon's company at a time like this. While he would have preferred someone more his speed, the little treasure hunter was a good laugh when he needed to be. They talked quietly to one another as they moved along, scanning the skies for any sign of aerial Digimon and forcing their way through the dense scrubland around them. Greymon had to manoeuvre around slightly to avoid crushing the small, spindly trees that dotted the place, but he made no complaints.

* * *

They stopped overnight once the sun began to set. The mountains were still easily in view behind them and they had not gotten quite as far as Greymon had been hoping since he had been burdened with his mostly sleeping passenger, but he could only hope that things would get better in the morning. As they spent the night around a small fire which Revolmon had lit, Bastemon had seemed almost cute. She had barely noticed the transition from travelling to camping, having awoken just long enough to clamber off Greymon and curl up on the ground before snoozing again.

"How does she do it?" Greymon muttered to Revolmon quietly as he stared at the princess curled into a ball. "How can she possibly sleep so much and so easily?"

"It's her metabolism, I suppose," shrugged Revolmon, twirling one of his guns absent-mindedly. "She doesn't consciously go to sleep all the time – she just nods off. You know, Wisemon once told me that some of the books from the human world which he keeps replicating in the castle library is called Sleeping Beauty. Apparently it's about some princess or other who falls under a spell and sleeps for a hundred years until she's woken up by a handsome prince or some other rubbish."

"How does that even work?" Greymon frowned. "How did the Prince know how to wake her up from the spell? Was he a wizard?"

"No, apparently he kissed her and the spell lifted," Revolmon shrugged. "I dunno. I never read the story. It's never been my thing."

"He kissed a sleeping stranger?" Greymon raised a brow.

"Yeah, I know," Revolmon chuckled. "Quite perverted, isn't it?"

"No kidding," Greymon snorted.

"Anyway, my point is, Bastemon's about the closest thing to being a real-live version of that princess that I've ever seen," the gunslinging Digimon pointed out, holstering the pistol deftly. "It's almost like it was written for her. Sometimes I'm a bit envious. She doesn't seem to have a care in the world."

"Yes, but that's it!" Greymon growled. "That is my point. It's damn annoying. She just doesn't seem to grasp the seriousness of this situation. What does she expect to happen? We've been transported to who-knows-where, where any kind of dangerous or powerful Digimon or any other creature could be lurking and she just naps! Doesn't she have any priorities at all? Does she just think that everything will sort itself out and everything will be fine? Does she just expect us to protect her?"

"You saying you won't?" Revolmon frowned.

"Course I will," Greymon huffed. "What I mean is – does she just expect us to look after her for her and not attempt to pitch in and look after herself?"

"She's a princess," Revolmon shrugged. "She's used to the good life, I suppose. From what I've seen of her, she's always had servants and soldiers to do things for her. I don't think she even knows how to handle doing things on her own. Didn't stop her from completely devouring that Chuchumon though. I don't think I've ever seen anything scarier than her face when she saw that giant mouse. Still, the point is – yes. She's always had other people looking out for her. She expects it. It's natural for her. And she's definitely not a fighter."

Greymon sighed. "Remind me again why she joined Xros Heart at all? Knightmon I understand but why her?"

Revolmon somehow managed to snort, despite the fact he had no visible nose. Or mouth. "I believe it had something to do with her having a crush on Taiki. She wanted to go because he was going. Shoutmon told me she was all over him when they won at the Lake Zone."

Greymon stared at Revolmon for several seconds. "Are you serious?" he asked slowly. "She, an adult Digimon princess, had a crush on a human child probably about half her age?"

Revolmon chuckled. "Messed up, right?"

"No kidding," Greymon sighed. "At least nothing came of it though. Didn't that human girl that also followed Taiki around also have a crush on him?"

"Akari? Yeah, she did, though she'd probably deny it. She got so mad whenever Bastemon tried to cuddle up to him. Perfectly understandable really. At least Mervamon did something sensible and went for a guy who things could actually work out with. I think Bastemon had gotten over her crush by the end of the war, but she still hung around out of loyalty to Taiki and the rest of us by that point. And she's still around even now so… that has to count for something, right?"

"I suppose," Greymon sighed, looking down at the Digimon he could probably kill by stepping on, completely unaware that they were talking about her, or even talking at all. "But I still think that she could try and stay awake a bit more. She'd be more likely to survive if we found ourselves in a fight if she was awake to begin with."

"True that," nodded Revolmon. "Maybe we should try and make her walk tomorrow."

"Good luck with that," Greymon chortled. "Speaking of tomorrow, any ideas where we should go from here."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am getting hungry," Revolmon murmured. "Thirsty too. I know that we need to track down the others but I think our first priority tomorrow will be finding food and water of some description. For you that probably means that you might need to go hunting. I haven't seen any convenient meat trees around since we got here."

"No, neither have I," Greymon shook his head. "What about her?" he turned towards Bastemon. "We'll be lucky to find any giant saucers of milk lying around. Or any convenient Chuchumon."

Revolmon shuddered. "Bastemon can probably hunt for herself if the need arises, but I'll see if I can't find something for her as well. There might be a few morsels around here she can stomach. But I think we need to find water first. There's bound to be a stream around her somewhere, and if there is then we should hopefully run into it eventually."

Greymon nodded. Little was said between them after that, and the dinosaur Digimon stood sentinel over the campsite while Revolmon dozed and Bastemon continued to sleep on, oblivious to everything around her.

* * *

When morning came along once again, Revolmon quietly shook Bastemon awake once more. The princess stretched lazily, her two tails flicking and her claws splayed as she smacked her lips. "I'm getting thirsty," she murmured as she rubbed as her eyes with the back of her paw. "Can somebody get me a drink of water?"

"Your Highness, we don't have water," Revolmon pointed out. "We didn't have any on us when we were transported and we haven't yet found any in this strange new place. We need to keep moving and try and find some if we want a drink."

"Oh. Okay," Bastemon sat up, yawning politely into her paw and looking ready to fall asleep again on the spot. "Well, I'm thirsty so let's get going shall we? Greymon, can I climb up on your back again please."

"Can't you walk, Princess?" Greymon grumbled. "You'd be more likely to stay awake if you stayed on your feet, wouldn't you?"

Bastemon pouted. "I can't help it if I fall asleep all the time. It doesn't matter if I'm walking or sitting, I always just go to sleep. Please let me ride again. Your head is so comfy."

Greymon threw a sharp glance at Revolmon to stop him from snickering before he sighed internally and said, "Fine. We're wasting time here."

"Thank you," Bastemon purred and clambered aboard once again in a momentary display of spryness which counteracted her usual appearance. "Mush!" she giggled slightly as she patted on of Greymon's horns.

"Mush?" Greymon growled indignantly, setting off regardless. "What am I – a camel?"

"You don't say 'mush' to camels," Revolmon called up, setting off beside them.

"Whatever," Greymon grumbled.

"Aw, someone's a little grumpy today," Bastemon grinned as she reclined on top of Greymon's head.

"And getting grumpier," Greymon muttered under his breath. He felt quite demeaned at the moment – after all, he was not a pack animal, yet he seemed to be being used as one. Still, he didn't voice anything else as they continued through the scrub. A few bird-like noises issued from the bushes around them, but they paid them no mind.

They probably would have though, if they had noticed that the noises were coming from carefully concealed humans in long green cloaks, peering out at the strange procession with masked faces and keen eyes. There were more of them than there had been at the start – at least five of them now. But they made no move against the three Digimon. They just watched and waited.

For now.

* * *

To her credit, Bastemon managed to stay awake longer than she had managed to yesterday this time. She seemed to be enjoying the ride immensely, and was even sitting upright on Greymon's head, each of her twin tails wrapped around Greymon's side horns to help keep her anchored in place.

But that did stop her from yawning about every ten seconds and the sound was beginning to annoy Greymon immensely – it was never the same length twice. He found himself holding his breath and counting how many seconds each yawn lasted and he had to physically stop his eye from twitching.

Why in the Digital World did he have to get lumped in with her?

This feeling increased tenfold when Bastemon started making demands. They weren't terribly difficult to carry out, but Greymon had never had to cater to anybody's needs in this way before and it irked him considerably.

"Greymon, could you slow down a little? I think I'm getting a little motion sickness."

"Greymon, can you go over there please. I think there's a piece of nice looking fruit on that tree."

"Greymon, could we go a bit faster now? My mouth is getting really dry."

"Ooh, a butterfly! Greymon, stop. Let me see if I can catch that butterfly!"

"Greymon, can we stop for a bit. I'd like to take a nap."

Greymon growled a little bit when she said this last one. "Princess, I am going to keep going," he stated a little sharply. "We have more important things to do right now than sleep. We need to find the others, get some food and some water and work out where we are. Sleep can wait."

"No, it can't," Bastemon frowned. "I've always gone to sleep when I want to go to sleep, and I want to go to sleep now. There's a nice shady spot over there that looks nice. Stop and let me get off, will you?"

Greymon was utterly flabbergasted at her complete lack of priorities and her stubborn streak but before he could protest, Bastemon had actually rolled over and slid down his back, falling to the ground on all fours by the base of his tail and wandering over to the large tree which she had been pointing out before.

"We can't stop now," Greymon snarled slightly. "We don't know if this place is safe."

"I'll be safe as long as you protect me," Bastemon smiled. Greymon had to stop his jaw from dropping. Bastemon seemed to be completely unaware of how arrogant she was being. It wasn't as if she was deliberately being snooty like a lot of princes and princesses might have been – some of them tended to go out of their way to be like that. Bastemon wasn't like that. She was friendly and loving and caring, like a good princess should be. But she just seemed to expect everyone to just stop whatever they were doing and cater to her with no questions asked. It seemed like that was just the way that the world worked to her. She just expected things to go her way, as they always had in the past.

Bastemon curled up in the shade and let out her longest yawn yet – it lasted a full ten seconds. Then she smiled sleepily at Greymon and Revolmon, who still hadn't moved from their current position.

"What?" she asked.

This time Revolmon chipped in his opinion and said, "Princess Bastemon, I think that Greymon is right. We should press on."

"And we will, when I've had my catnap," Bastemon smiled pleasantly.

"Yes but… but…" Revolmon waved his arms in a random fashion. "We're just wasting time here. It's like Greymon said – we need to find what we need to survive and…"

"Okay then," she interrupted. "Here's what you can do, if you like. Revolmon, you can go and look around for some food and water for all of us, while Greymon, you can stay here and stand guard for me, right?"

"Split up?" Greymon asked. "That's not such a good idea. It might be difficult to find each other again later if we do that. And there is a better chance of protection if we stay in numbers."

This time Bastemon didn't even seem to hear the protests and she curled up and said, "Off you go. Nighty-night."

And within seconds, she was snoozing.

The dinosaur and the gunslinger stared at the cat-woman for several blank seconds.

"Wow," Revolmon muttered eventually. "I see what you were getting at. She really doesn't seem to grasp that we're in an urgent situation at all, does she?"

"What does she expect to happen?" Greymon snarled. "Does she just expect everything to work out in the end of its own accord? This is utterly ridiculous. We might have been able to go double the distance we've travelled at this point if she was taking this more seriously. And she just expects us to look after her."

"Maybe that's why she doesn't think this is so urgent," Revolmon shrugged. "Maybe she expects everyone else to be searching for her just like how we are searching for them right now."

"And they will be," Greymon agreed. "But it's a lot more complicated than that. Who knows how far away they are?"

"She doesn't," Revolmon shrugged. "I guess she's never had to think much about this sort of thing before."

"Well she has to," Greymon growled. "I'm going to wake her up and get us moving again."

"Whoa, wait!" Revolmon quickly stepped in front of the angry dinosaur. "Let's just go with this for now. She's obviously going to keep falling asleep like this in the future, which means she's obviously more of a hindrance than a help. Maybe if I go out and look for water on my own then I can cover more ground. Besides, I know what I'm doing. You just stay here and keep an eye on her and I'll be back soon, okay?"

Greymon snorted. "Fine," he muttered. "But try and be quick."

Revolmon flicked his hat. "I'm always quick," he said, and he turned and quickly ran off in the direction that they had been going. Greymon watched him go for several moments until the smaller Digimon had vanished into the shrubbery.

Greymon then rumbled slightly to himself and turned back to look at Bastemon, snoozing away without a care in the world. She looked so peaceful, a small smile on her face as she dreamed of whatever it was that cat princesses dreamt about. And, in a way, it was that peaceful look on her face which irked Greymon the most. She should be worried. She should be fretting over her own safety and the safety of the others and whether they would be able to survive and if they could get back to the castle or what might be lurking in the undergrowth waiting to jump out of them. She should be very worried.

But she wasn't.

She was completely relaxed.

No. Priorities. At. All.

Greymon grimaced and turned back to face the surroundings, watching out for anything that might pose a threat to the snoozing Princess. He'd never had to deal with this sort of thing when he ran with Blue Flare. Heck, even Taiki hadn't had to put up with this. Bastemon had been able to snooze as she pleased inside the Xros Loader while the rest of them got on with tasks. But right now, they did not, unfortunately, have a Xros Loader. So Bastemon was going to have to stay on the outside and the others were going to have to try and deal with this.

Greymon wondered how long it would take before he went insane.

* * *

Revolmon moved off into the scrublands, brushing the shrubbery aside with his spindly arms and moving his enormous chest revolver carefully around the foliage so as not to snag the barrel on anything. He was beginning to feel the effects of thirst quite strongly and knew that while he could survive without it a while longer yet, he would need to find something sooner or later.

If only it would rain. That would make things easier. He could collect the stuff in his hat if the worst came to the worst. And it had to rain at places like this sometimes, didn't it? Otherwise there wouldn't be all these trees all over the place. But, there wasn't anything in the sky above, although there did seem to be some dark, foreboding storm clouds in the east over the peaks of the dark mountains.

But for some reason, Revolmon found himself hoping that those storm clouds didn't get any closer. And he couldn't quite figure out why. But there was definitely something… off… about them. Something unsettling. It disturbed him.

He pressed on regardless, wondering as he did so if he had made the right call to leave Greymon and Bastemon alone together. Bastemon might be oblivious to how much her lack of seriousness and general demanding attitude was grating on Greymon's nerves, but Revolmon could see it quite clearly. The dinosaur was not experienced at this kind of thing. Most of the problems he had to deal with involved attacking something.

Revolmon himself was a lot more patient. That came with his field. You had to be very patient when you were a treasure hunter. Sometimes it might take you months or even up to year, to find a particularly treasure that you were looking for. The whole point of treasure was that it was supposed to be concealed well after all. And Revolmon had had a lot of experience at the hardships and struggle of being a treasure hunter. It had been his whole life before Xros Heart.

But even he had to admit that Bastemon was quite taxing, even if she didn't intend to be or know that she was. Greymon did have a couple of valid points about her, but she genuinely didn't know any better. She had never experienced anything but being a Princess, even while a member of Xros Heart. And getting lost in the woods was no place for a spoiled princess like herself. Shoutmon was different as a King – he knew what he was doing. Bastemon didn't. She'd never lived enough of the rough lifestyle.

But Revolmon put that out of his mind for now. He had to focus on finding food and water. Water was the most important. Everything else could wait until afterwards, but water was something that they couldn't do without. All of them needed to quench their thirst, even if they were made out of data.

Fortunately, while water might not be a treasure in the traditional sense of the word, Revolmon knew what to look for when it came to finding water. He had needed to himself in the past, but of course he had always gone to the strange new place by choice back then, as opposed to this time where he had been dumped here.

Once he found a slope, he began to head downhill. Water was far more likely to be at the bottom of any dips in the ground considering it would always flow downwards, so that was his best bet. Every now and then he would stop and listen intently to the wind – something which had been impossible to do when he had been walking next to the heavy footfalls of Greymon. He was listening out for the sound of trickling water, which could actually travel quite far under the right circumstances.

When he heard nothing, he moved on once again. Every now and then he would alternate between checking the vegetation and monitoring the ground in front of him for something which he could not yet see. He muttered quietly to himself, resolving to stay away from the others for no longer than a couple of hours, and if nothing turned up after half an hour away from them in the direction he was going, he would attempt another way.

After a time, when he had still not found what he was looking for, he froze. He had thought, just for a moment, that he had heard some kind of snapping noise in the distance. Faint, but nonetheless unmistakably there. His hands instinctively flew to his sides and drew his pistols out from thin air, priming his central gun internally at the same time as he hunkered down slightly and began to scan the horizon.

He couldn't see too far in any direction, except up, where he could see the sky and the distant mountain peaks, but other than that mostly all that he could see was trees. And most of what he could hear was silence. Quite a lot of silence actually, but there seemed to be nothing too out of the ordinary. The birds were still singing – in fact, he could hear some calls not too far away from him – and the insects were still chirping.

Nothing really amiss.

Still, it couldn't hurt to be careful and he went on, proceeding with caution.

Eventually, after he had changed trajectory to head off around ninety degrees from the direction which he had been going in, he finally discovered something interesting. The land was surprisingly empty of creatures – he hadn't seen a single Digimon since he'd got here, but he did eventually find some tracks that looked like they had come from some hooves. Small hooves – like those of a Centarumon except not as big. This was usually a good sign and he knew it. Where there were locals, there would more than likely be water.

He still couldn't say for sure if there was water nearby, but he began to follow the hoof tracks, hoping that they would lead him to something worthwhile. Now that he had found what he was looking for on the ground, he began to periodically stop and check the trees a little more. He carefully examined the leaves every now and then, checking their succulence and colour.

And… yes, it certainly seemed like he was getting warmer. He knew that trees which were closer to water were naturally going to be more lush, both from increased run-off from rain-water and from a greater density of water soaked into the ground. And it seemed that whatever footprints he had been following had been taking him closer to a prospective goal.

Continuing to check the trees every now and then, he also paused to listen every time he stopped. And… there! Was it? Yes, that sounded like the trickling of a stream. He dashed off in the direction of the noise for about a hundred yards or so and then stopped to listen again. And yes, there it was again. Louder this time. Definitely the sound of water. He had found it!

He pressed on, practically leaping over rocks and springing around bushes, his central gun making things a bit awkward but otherwise moving fast. And then, finally, he found it.

It was quite a small stream, running between two rocky banks through the trees. It was so narrow that it might make drinking from it a little bit awkward, especially for somebody like Greymon who would have to bend over and literally plant his nose into the water. But that wasn't a problem. All he had to do was follow its course and he was pretty sure that it would widen out. But, just to be sure, he began to hurry along in the direction of the trickling, keeping pace with the water itself as he ran.

He still hadn't really seen anything that could be used as food, but he put that out of his mind for now. Water was more important.

But what Revolmon eventually found surprised him. While the stream did broaden out quite a bit, he eventually found that it went over a clifftop and tumbled down several dozen metres towards the base, where a large ovular basin filled with the clear liquid, churning round and round beneath the falling waters, only flowing out of the pool through a narrow rocky gap and out to form a river beyond it.

"Well," Revolmon nodded, sounding pleased with himself. "Found the water. I guess that means that I can check one thing off the list of things that the Princess needs doing. Hmm – I should probably find a way of getting down the cliff though. Jumping off certainly isn't going to do anybody any favours.

And then the small gunslinging Digimon picked a direction and headed off, but it didn't take long before something caught his attention and he stopped. It was another footprint, this one larger and more distinct than the tracks which he had been following before. Large and with a pointed end, it was definitely a footprint of some kind of boot.

Meaning that there was some kind of intelligent life nearby after all.

And it looked fresh too.

* * *

Not far from the site where Revolmon was currently searching for a way down the cliff, Captain Faramir – Prince of Ithilien and brother of Boromir – grimly pulled another arrow out of the body of one of the many dead orcs in front of him. Things were getting worse by the day and he knew it. Looking up, he could see more of his men, the green-clad Rangers, rifling amongst the corpses and salvaging what ammunition they could re-use. Every arrow was becoming precious these days, and so every arrow possible was re-taken from every battlefield.

This orc patrol had been relatively small in comparison to some of the others. Perhaps it had been an attempt at a stealth incursion to try and get past the Rangers themselves. Faramir, as the leader of those Ithilien Rangers, was exceptionally proud of his men. Next to the forces of Mordor their numbers were meagre, but they were exceptionally good at what they did, and if the circumstances were right, they were more than capable of taking out patrols several times the number of their own forces.

The Mordor Orcs feared them greatly, and they were right to. The Rangers were a force to be reckoned with out in the woods and scrublands where they were utilised. Each of them was descended from the people who had lived in Ithilien before it had been taken by the forces of Mordor many years ago, and they knew the terrain like they knew their own weapons.

They were masters of stealth, and experts at guerrilla warfare – their camouflaging cloaks and light feet allowing them to go unheard and unseen by nigh anybody who walked through their woods. They had learned how to use berries and other woodland substances to mask their scent, which was of particular benefit against the orcs. Nobody ever saw them coming and when they attacked, nobody could ever tell where the attacks were coming from. They were like hidden death, their arrows flying and downing columns of the enemy before they even knew there was a threat.

They were able to take out small armies by catching them off guard with only a few hundred of their own, or even less, in this manner.

Faramir himself was arguably the single best Ranger in all of the land. As the youngest Son of the Steward of Gondor, he had decided to invest more in the practice of being a Ranger than a full-blown warrior as his brother had been, hoping that the two of them could combine their various strengths to keep Gondor safe from both angles. Now, Boromir was gone, off up to Rivendell on his quest to discover the meaning behind the dreams that both he and Faramir had had several months prior, and Faramir was finding himself more and more put into Boromir's positions. He would be the first to admit that he was far less suited to that kind of thing than out here in the woods where he knew exactly what he was doing.

He wrinkled his nose at the foul smell of the orcs before him as he plucked out two more arrows and restored them to his quiver. This bunch might have been rather small, but any patrol of orcs into his lands could not be tolerated, and unfortunately for this lot they had made the unknowable mistake of getting too close to the Rangers' secret hideout – the Forbidden Pool, as they called it. And now they had all paid the price for it, while the Rangers had lost nobody.

It had been a good mission, and, like with every arrow, every Ranger was going to be needed nowadays.

Because Faramir was noticing more and more that the numbers of Mordor forces in his lands were growing, despite their best efforts.

And it wasn't just orcs that he was referring to either. While the scout patrols were most often orcs, there were increasing reports of columns of Men from foreign lands marching through in the direction of the Black Gates of Mordor. Faramir had no doubt that they had ill intentions, or at least the ones in command did. Killing other Men pained Faramir – he had no way of knowing which of them were truly evil, and which of them were following out of blind loyalty to their leaders or even fear of the consequences if they disobeyed.

And yet, it seemed that they had little choice now. The most common forces now heading through Ithilien belonged to the Haradrim – men from the enormous countries of Near and Far Harad to the South. Also known as Southrons for that very reason, the Haradrim had long had an uneasy past with Gondor as it was, with many attempts in the past to invade and spread their own territories.

But Faramir could not remember a time where they had come in such numbers. Every day another column seemed to come north, and they brought something with them far more terrifying than any force of Men – their Mûmakil. Dealing with Mûmakil was very different than dealing with an army. The enormous creatures towered far taller than any other creature that Faramir had ever seen. A Man would be lucky to be very much taller than its ankle, and their enormous trunks and giant sweeping tusks made their formidable alone, and adding in the sheer strength, enormous frame, tough skin and tendency to go on a rampage, they were often seen as almost indestructible.

And to top it off, the Haradrim had not only somehow found a way to tame the giant creatures, after a fashion, they had also constructed massive war-towers which each Mûmak carried on its back, allowing dozens of archers to rain arrows down on anything that was beyond the reach of the Mûmak itself.

Faramir had been going to greater and greater lengths recently to try and put a stop to the Mûmakil. Arrows alone did little to them, so he had been attempting to organise attempts to build pitfalls for them. It was a lot of effort for the nimble and lean Rangers, as the holes did require a degree of architectural construction, to ensure that they were both large enough to allow a Mûmak to fall in completely, and covered enough to both hide the pitfall from view _and_ ensure that whatever was covering it was strong enough to allow humans to walk across it, for if any Haradrim fell into the trap first, those steering the Mûmakil would become wise to it and the trap's function would have been lost.

Pressure was building on Faramir day in and day out now. He hoped that Boromir would return soon. Indeed, there had been reports that the well-known Horn of Gondor had been heard up to the North. He hoped that Boromir was okay, but of course he currently had no way of knowing.

He put it from his mind. Stressing about these things was not going to do him any good. He focused on the matter at hand. He had already received orders from his father that he was to pull out of Ithilien and help to reinforce Osgiliath. Faramir had reluctantly agreed, though he had been against the idea from the start. The Rangers were not half as useful in a city as they were out in the wild. No matter how skilled they were, their numbers were far too small to help deal with full-frontal assaults.

Nevertheless, Faramir had a job to do, and he would carry it out to the best of his ability in his brother's stead. Hopefully, the situation as Osgiliath wouldn't last long, and he would be able to return to the wild where he felt he was actually of use.

Shouldering his bow once again, Faramir turned when he heard the voice of Madril, his trusted second-in-command, hailing him from a distance. Madril had not taken part in this particular raid, staying behind to co-ordinate the scouting teams, but now Faramir could see him hurrying towards them, a look that Faramir could not quite discern on his face.

"Madril," Faramir nodded, as he approached with a couple of other Rangers flanking him. "What is it? Has there been any further word from my father?"

"None," Madril said. "Our orders still stand, but I'm afraid, Captain Faramir, that we may have to delay slightly before carrying them out. Some of our scouts have been giving some disturbing reports, and I felt it best to inform you immediately."

"What reports?" Faramir frowned. "Yet another enemy convoy?"

"We… are not quite sure," Madril confessed with a grimace. "The reports are… most strange. They do not speak of an army, but rather a few odd creatures that have not been seen before. Something new, and not far from our current position. The descriptions are… odd at best, but the main one consists of some creature which 'looks like a dragon, but isn't.'"

Faramir frowned, but felt worry building inside him nonetheless. There had not been a dragon in Gondor since long before his time, but even something that looked like a dragon was more than likely to be dangerous. "Any other description than that?"

Madril nodded to one of the Rangers he had brought with him, and that Ranger stepped forward. "I saw it myself, Captain Faramir. It did look a little bit like a dragon but there were many things different about it. It wasn't as big, for one – though it was still about four times taller than an average Man. It didn't have any wings either and it walked on two legs rather than four. It's arms were quite small but its head and teeth were very large, sir. It was dark blue with orange stripes on its back and tail and… well… it had three horns. Two of them stuck out to the side and one came out of the top of its nose, but the one on its nose was metal – like a blade of some kind. And it had another smaller blade on the end of its tail. It was like nothing I've ever seen before, and it looked formidable."

Faramir's frown remained in place, but he was secretly worried. He couldn't let that worry show, but at the rather detailed description he couldn't help but believe his Ranger was telling the truth. Had Sauron come up with some brand new terror to plague them? It would not be the first time he had done so if that was the case.

"Movements?" Faramir asked. "How long ago was it spotted?"

"Last evening, Captain," the Ranger replied. "I was on the long-distance patrol to Emyn Arnen and we had spread out when one of our number first spotted it. We monitored its progress for a while before we determined that it was definitely heading north-west."

"Into Gondor," Faramir observed with a grimace.

"Yes, sir," nodded the Ranger. "My guess is that if it keeps going the way it is, it might end up at Cair Andros. But… that's not the whole news, Captain. It's not alone. It appears to have two companions."

"There are three of these large lizard-creatures?" Faramir asked in alarm.

"No, Captain," the Ranger replied. "Just the one. The other two it travels with are much smaller and not lizard-like at all. They too are things I've never seen before. One of them appears to be… well… it might sound a little silly, Captain."

"Go on," Faramir urged.

"It was like a cat," the Ranger went on hesitantly. "But again, not a cat. It was the shape and size of a woman, but it definitely had cat-like features like long claws, the large ears, thin fur and a tail. Except that it also had another tail as well. And it was actually _riding_ on the dragon-creature like a steed. And the third creature… I can't even begin to describe it properly. It was like a very short man… or a Dwarf perhaps. But it was wearing a big hat so we couldn't see its face and… well… it was like it had some giant metal pole sticking out of its front. It looked ridiculous."

Faramir couldn't help but give the Ranger an odd look for a few moments, before the Ranger looked embarrassed and said, "It's true sir. That is what it looked like."

"I see," Faramir nodded. "Anything else to report?"

"Not really, sir," the Ranger shook his head. "We called in several other Ranger units to keep an eye on it while we reported back."

"Our last report stated that they were still heading in the same direction," Madril agreed. "And all the reports confirm the same appearance. I do not believe this is some trick, sire. I believe it to be genuine."

"Then we must decide what to do about it immediately," Faramir deduced. "How far is it from here now?"

"Not far," Madril replied gravely. "Apparently the big creature and the cat woman have stopped while the… pole-Dwarf… has set out on its own. We cannot get close enough to hear what they are saying, but reports indicate that all three of them are worthy of speech. They are perhaps a mile or two out from the Forbidden Pool as we speak."

"Then we must intercept them," Faramir said immediately, signalling to his Rangers to fall in and stepping past Madril and the other Rangers to head in the direction of the Pool, taking charge of the situation as the others fell in step behind him. "I do not know what their purpose is, but if that large creature is indeed a dragon, or perhaps a distant unknown relative of the dragon race, then it's most likely that its intentions are not friendly. Dragons have long been a race of Darkness and while the few remaining Dragons of Middle Earth might be limited to only unknown regions, I cannot risk this one becoming a threat."

"So, we are to attempt to attack it?" Madril asked. "If it is as tough as a regular Dragon I fear that our arrows may do little to it. Perhaps we could dig a trap for it?"

"There is not the time," Faramir grimaced. "And we do not yet know if it is even a threat. We have no idea what we're up against, and I don't like that. You say that one of the three creatures has gone off on its own?"

"Yes," Madril nodded. "Approximately twenty minutes ago according to our sources."

"Then we must make it a priority to find and capture that single creature," Faramir ordered. "If we can interrogate it, we may learn more about this situation."

"But what of the dragon?" Madril asked, deciding to just call it a dragon rather than a dragon-creature or dragon-thing.

"How strong would you estimate it is?" Faramir asked.

"Strong, sire," the other Ranger nodded. "You can see its muscles quite clearly, and if it is anything like the dragons of old then it may possess flame-breathing ability. Our cover will be useless against it if it just burns it away and us with it."

"Establish a series of relays," Faramir commanded. "A line of Rangers from the creature to the Pool. I want to know its movements at all times. We may be able to use that to set up an ambush for it if it passes through an ideal location. But if you say that this… cat-woman… is its rider then perhaps she is the key to controlling it. Perhaps we will not need to take down the creature itself. And if battle is joined then we can pick our places carefully and, if nothing else, drive it away from the Pool and away from Gondorian settlements."

"Very well, sire," Madril nodded. "I shall spread the word…"

"Captain!" cried a voice from up ahead, as another Ranger hurried from the foliage ahead. "We've been watching the Dwarf with the metal pole and it has discovered the Forbidden Pool. It is there now, attempting to discover a way down the cliff and make it to the water."

Faramir cursed. "Then perhaps it knows of our base?"

"I don't know, sire," the Ranger replied. "It may just be after the water. It isn't really trying to be stealthy, though it is wary of its surroundings. We withdrew all our forces inside the caves behind the waterfall except for those keeping an eye on it. I do not believe it is aware that it is being followed."

"Is it armed?" asked Faramir.

"Unknown, sire," the Ranger sighed. "If it does have weapons then we have not seen them. It certainly has no bow or blade, but we have occasionally witnessed it holding two small blunted metal objects which resemble smaller versions of the pole sticking out its front. They don't look like very effective hand to hand combat weapons but we cannot discern anything else they might be for."

"Then this could be a stroke of good fortune," Faramir replied. "Have archers stationed around all of the ledges around the pool, but keep them hidden until I give the word. Everyone else," he turned to the rest of the group behind him. "Spread out. Keep each other in sight, but stay low. We must head towards the Pool from all possible angles. Steel yourselves and await my signal, but have an arrow ready. We want to take it alive, but if it resists then try to injure rather than kill it. I have some questions I would ask of it."

The Rangers nodded wordlessly, pulling up their black masks and green hoods so the only visible parts of their faces were their eyes and swiftly disappearing into the woods to efficiently carry out their tasks. Faramir nodded to Madril and a couple of other Rangers, indicating that they should stay close as he drew his sword rather than his bow and moved swiftly and near silently through the undergrowth in the direction of the pool, while the one who had delivered the news hurried back faster to give the word to the Rangers inside.

One of the biggest problems of being a stealth fighter was communication, which meant that once the orders were given it was difficult to co-ordinate anything beyond simple signals. But Faramir trusted his platoon to carry out their tasks efficiently on their own. That was what made them the best.

But right now they had a meeting to attend.

* * *

Revolmon hopped off the last remnants of the hill that he had found, turning to glance back up at it judgmentally. It was still relatively steep, and Greymon might have a bit of trouble navigating his large frame down it, but it would probably have to do. It was the shallowest part of cliff that he had come across so far, and it looked like it would probably carry on being steep for a while in either direction.

In any case at least he could now quench his own thirst. And when he did, he would then be able to head back. He'd have to retrace his steps, since he didn't know the exact location where Greymon and Bastemon were from here, but that was fine. He'd let plenty of trail for him to follow his own way.

Pleased with his success, Revolmon headed off to the pool he had found before. It didn't take him long to reach it. He could hear more of those strange bird-calls around this area, but that wasn't surprising. Birds needed to drink too after all.

Upon reaching the water, he hunched over a rock that made up part of the bank and reached, down, scooping up a handful of water and passing it underneath his neckerchief to his small and usually hidden mouth. It was cool and refreshing, much like the waters of the lake around the castle back home, and Revolmon could already feel himself being slightly re-energised.

The waterfall crashing over the top of the rise provided a constant backdrop of gushing liquid and crashing noise and Revolmon, ever the watchful, looked up every now and then to make sure that there was nobody around to try and threaten him when his guard was down. When he saw nothing, he went back to drinking again.

Unfortunately, Revolmon's judgement wasn't quite as accurate as he had thought it to be. Eyes were watching him now from all around, peering through the smallest of gaps in the foliage from over slight rises and the owners of those eyes were almost completely out of sight, and what parts of them were visible were camouflaged by their attire. Slowly, stealthily, placing each foot with the utmost care, the Rangers of Ithilien inched their way closer to the intruder, arrows nocked and bowstrings tight.

The waterfall of their pool was aiding them now. The noise is made meant they could move a bit more freely than normal, but they still were careful not to snap twigs or make any other untoward noise. They weren't taking chances. None of them ever did if they could help it.

It was at this point, while Revolmon was drinking, that Faramir arrived and took up position behind a tree, with Madril behind another trunk. Carefully, Faramir twisted around to peer through a gap in the plant-life and stare at Revolmon.

He had to admit he was more than a little shocked. A Dwarf with a pole sticking out of him didn't really describe this guy. The pole looked like it was a part of his very body. His boots, his hat, his scarf… everything about him seemed strange and foreign, and years of experience had long since taught Faramir to be wary of what didn't look familiar. And this was anything but familiar.

Still, now was the chance they had been waiting for, when it was otherwise occupied. He signalled with a swift, decisive hand-gesture to Madril, who nodded and passed on the message. Slowly, the Rangers emerged from cover and out into the open, while Revolmon's back was to them and inched forwards, pulling their bowstrings taut and focusing their arrows on the stranger. Faramir lifted his sword and followed, holding it loosely by his side.

Revolmon, oblivious, continued to drink. But it was at this point that instinct told him that something was up. He didn't hear anything new but the moment his consciousness prickled him he was up and whirled around, pulling his pistols into existence from his waist and raising them with a snap of his arms, safety off and weapons primed, ready to shoot at the bat of an eyelid.

What he saw took him off guard and he almost stumbled backwards into the pool. There were at least thirty fully-grown adult humans standing all around him, cutting off his escape and with arrows pointed at him. He silently cursed himself. How had he not noticed them? How had they managed to get so close to him and in such numbers?

He grimly took in their camouflage. Clearly they were good. They could probably give the elite Monitamon a run for their money.

_Damn,_ he thought to himself. _Now what?_

"I assume that there is a reason for your trespassing on this land?" a voice called out over the noise of the waterfall. Revolmon's eyes were taken straight to Faramir as he emerged from his ranks, a white tree design plastered on the front of his jerkin, bow across his shoulder and sword in his hand. Revolmon was under no illusion that this was the leader of the group.

Faramir stared at the Digimon, not allowing himself to become enthralled at his sheer weirdness. He kept his face steady and said, "Although, in case it's unclear, if you attempt to fight us, my men are more than capable of insuring that you do not live to see your next sunrise." He nodded upwards towards the cliffs. Revolmon blinked and turned slightly to look out of the corner of his eye, balking when he saw that there were at least _another_ thirty archers stationed at various hidden entrances in the cliff-face or on the top of the cliff itself, also with arrows pointed directly at him.

"You are surrounded," Faramir stated needlessly. "Your escape routes have been cut off. I would suggest you lower your weapons, if those are indeed weapons, and do not attempt to resist us." He lifted his sword and pointed it at the gunslinger. "You are on our land after all. Now, surrender. Or…"

He dropped his sword.

A split second later, ten arrows thudded into the ground right next to Revolmon's boots. Revolmon scowled, but he knew that he was beaten. He was a strong Digimon in his own way, although there were many far stronger than himself. And if he needed to, he was pretty sure that he would be able to take out ten to fifteen of those archers with rapid shots of his three guns before the others even had time to act, but that wasn't going to do him any favours against such numbers from all angles. They would cut him down before he got two feet.

Revolmon also felt a slight anger at himself for this. He had faced down an army of SkullScorpiomon and taken on a group of MetalTyrannomon, all much larger than himself, so why was it always the humans that managed to trap him like this? First Yuu with his surprise attack and now this.

But still, Revolmon knew when to pick his fights and now was not that time. Besides, these guys were probably not evil. He would need to be sure before he tried anything. And so, reluctantly, he dropped his two hand pistols to the ground and raised his hands. Of course, he could _not_ drop the gun that comprised his torso, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage later on.

"Wise move," Faramir nodded. He then signalled with a nod of his head and several Rangers moved in from either side of Revolmon. Obviously they were wary of being in front of him, and by coming from the side, that meant he couldn't gun them all down at once. Clever. They knew what they were doing, even if they didn't know what he was.

One of the Rangers collected the pistols and stashed them in a cloak, while the others seized his arms and pinned them, forcing Revolmon to his knees. Revolmon resisted the urge to growl, but managed to say, "Hoi! Show some courtesy would you? I am surrendering here."

The Rangers eyes momentarily flashed with surprise, but quickly masked it and forced him down further, until the barrel of his chest gun was pointing into the ground. Revolmon could aim it up again no problem – he was stronger than he looked – but he didn't want to give a wrong impression if these were good guys.

Faramir then stepped closer and said, "I am Faramir, son of Denethor and Prince of Ithilien. Since you are in Ithilien yourself, that means that you are under my jurisdiction. Now tell me, who are you? And where do you come from? And for that matter, what are you? You are neither Dwarf nor Orc – that I can see."

Revolmon looked up from under the brim of his hat and met Faramir's human eyes with his own ovular yellow ones. "You're good," he admitted. "There's not many people who could all sneak up on me like that at the same time."

"That is not an answer to any of my questions," Faramir pointed out.

"No, mighty Prince, I suppose it isn't," Revolmon chuckled drolly. "Well, anyway, since you asked me so nicely and all, I'm Revolmon. And I am a Digimon."

* * *

Greymon snorted through his nostrils for what felt like the fiftieth time. He knew that it wasn't fair to Bastemon, but for some irrational reason even the sound of her breathing was beginning to annoy him. Maybe it was because it was a reminder of the fact that she wasn't taking things seriously and was just napping.

There was some part of him that knew full well that getting irritated at her was not going to help in any way whatsoever.

But it was being drowned out by the rest of him, which was mentally complaining that he had to look after someone so… namby-pamby.

He was also wondering what had happened to Revolmon. He had been gone for about an hour and half at this point, and while he had said that he probably wouldn't be gone much for more than two hours, Greymon had thought that he would be quicker than that. Had he got lost? Had he been injured by something? He had thought that splitting up was a bad idea and now he could see why. He had no way of knowing what had happened.

On the plus side, he had not heard any gunshots, which meant that it was likely Revolmon had not been attacked by something.

Be that as it may, all he could do for the moment was to just stay here and listen to the sound of Bastemon's breathing.

Which lead him back to being annoyed.

Why couldn't Knightmon have fallen with them here? Or the PawnChessmon? Or somebody who actually knew what to do with a simple-minded airheaded princess? Anybody but him would be better qualified for this. Except perhaps Cyberdramon. Heck, even MailBirdramon would have been more suited to keeping an eye on her. He had the patience of a tree, which is to say, unending. Plus he could fly and carry her easily even if she wanted to fall asleep on him.

But none of them were here and he was. So now, he just had to stay here and cope with it.

Not easy. For him at least.

Behind him, he heard Bastemon yawn and stretch, and he turned his head slightly to see her flexing her claws using one of her tails to rub her eyes. "Morning again, Greymon," she smiled. "How are you?"

Greymon grunted noncommittally and turned back.

"How long was I asleep?" Bastemon asked, leaning against the tree.

"About one and a half hours," Greymon replied, judging by the position of the Sun.

"That was a good nap," Bastemon smiled. "Considering I was lying on bare earth. Where's Revolmon?"

"He's not back yet," Greymon rumbled lowly, without looking at her. "Haven't heard anything from him since you nodded off."

"Really?" Bastemon pouted. "What's taking him so long? I'm getting thirsty here. And hungry too. It feels like it's been so long since we had that feast already, and I didn't get to eat much there because I kept nodding off."

"Perhaps he is having difficulty," Greymon responded, feeling his tail sweeping about slightly, which was never a good sign. It meant his temper was rising.

"He's supposed to be a treasure hunter," Bastemon complained slightly. "Isn't he supposed to be good at this sort of thing? Finding things, I mean?"

"This is a different land," Greymon growled. "His skills might not be so useful here."

"Maybe," Bastemon yawned again. "Well then, maybe I should go back to sleep for a bit."

Greymon's eye twitched. "You should try and stay awake more. What if there was an attack?"

"Then I've got my big, strong guardian to look after me," Bastemon tittered. "You can protect me from anything that comes to get me."

Greymon's eyes narrowed. For some reason, this was the final straw. Bastemon's careless assumption that he would do everything for her, despite being slightly justified since they were supposed to be team-mates, as well as the fact that she had asked Revolmon to go off to find stuff for her thus leading them to this situation in the first place, drove Greymon over the edge.

Releasing a roar that shook the trees, Greymon whirled around and pulverised a boulder with a stamp of his foot as he swung his head and bared teeth in Bastemon's direction. The princess, completely taken off guard by this, squealed and backed up against the trunk; Greymon's blood-red eyes glaring into her amber ones.

"Oh, will I?" Greymon snarled at her. "You expect me to just look after you, do you? You expect Revolmon to just run off and do your bidding, do you? You think that you can just fall asleep and everything will turn out alright because we'll look after you, do you?"

"Greymon," Bastemon was suddenly whimpering. "What… what are you…?"

"I've got some information for you, Princess," Greymon used the word snidely. "You might royalty, and you might have had everything you've ever needed or wanted handed to you on a platter in the past, but I'm not one of your staff. We are supposed to be a team. The Xros Heart United Army, working together to achieve victory. But you don't do that, do you? You just lie back and expect everything to go your way, while you can just lounge around and put no effort into anything. I can barely remember a time where you were useful during the fight against the Bagra Army. You might not be pompous and arrogant, but you're definitely a complete airhead!"

Bastemon's eyes widened and she pressed her back further against the tree. And Greymon wasn't done yet.

"Are you completely incapable of doing anything for yourself? Or, for that matter, doing something for other people? And you know what the worst of it is? It's that you don't even realise that you're doing it. You are one of the most selfish people I know, expecting everybody to go about your orders on a whim, and yet you don't even know you're being selfish. You greet everybody with smiles, but you've got so many airs and graces that it's a wonder you don't float away. Can't you just take a look at this situation? We're lost in a strange place with no comrades besides ourselves, no way of knowing where the others are and no knowledge of what's out there. We've _all_ got to work together to get out of this. Not just me and Revolmon doing things for you. You too, Princess."

Bastemon had never heard Greymon go on a tirade like this before and she could feel her eyes beginning to water as tears welled up within them. Nobody had ever shouted at her like this, and Greymon's words were really hitting her hard. He was landing verbal blow after blow on her mind, so much so that she wanted to just curl up into a ball and cry.

Greymon snorted contemptuously and reared back up again. In a gentler tone, for him, he said, "Now, since we are team-mates, I _am_ going to look out for you like you oh-so-readily expect me to. But you should consider playing your own part in this sometime soon." And he turned around and deliberately stared in the other direction.

Now that he'd finished shouting, Greymon felt a little guilty, which was another new sensation for him. There had been very little in his past that he'd had to feel guilty for. But this time he had made Bastemon cry, and there was some part of him which was satisfied with that, which prompted the rest of him to feel guilty. But those words, however unkind, had needed to be said. Bastemon needed to get some sense into her head and fast.

He could hear her whimpering now, but he did nothing to apologise. He'd let her mull over what he said before he did that.

And Bastemon was indeed mulling. She had turned around to place her arm against the trunk and then press her face into it so she could quietly sob against it. Was that really what Greymon thought of her? She'd always assumed that they got on well, even if they weren't particularly close. And ever since this situation began, she'd thought that things had been going well, if a little slowly. Now she found out that she had been doing nothing but getting on Greymon's nerves.

That hurt her.

Deeply.

Because now she was questioning what everybody else in the Xros Heart United Army thought about her. What did King Shoutmon and his close friends think of her? What did the other members of Blue Flare think of her? What did _Knightmon_ and the other members of her Royal Guard think of her? Did they think along similar lines? Did they think that she was just a spoiled Princess who always got her way?

And in, was she?

Was she really that pampered and selfish? Greymon was right, she hadn't really realised what she was doing, but now that she said it she could see quite clearly that he was right. She had been doing exactly what he had said she had been doing, ordering them around like servants, even if she had been doing it in a friendly manner.

The silence stretched awkwardly on as they waited for Revolmon's return. And Bastemon had never felt more miserable in her life.

Eventually, Greymon broke that silence and said, "Revolmon has been gone too long, Princess. Climb aboard and I'll attempt to follow his scent."

Bastemon mumbled an incoherent reply as she pulled herself away from the tree. Still sobbing quietly to herself, she clambered back up Greymon's side, far less nimbly than before, until she was sitting astride his shoulders, trying to stop herself from crying and failing. Sleep was one of the last things on her mind right now.

Wordlessly, the two of them made their way off in the direction that Revolmon had taken.

* * *

And there you have it. That's what I have problems writing – fallings out. People may know this from the fact that my characters rarely ever fall out with one another once they've made friends, but I felt that it was about time that somebody did once again. And that's why this chapter was so hard. I wanted Greymon to fly off the handle at Bastemon, but I didn't want it to be for completely unjustifiable reasons. Even now, I think I made him a little bit harsh at her, but Bastemon has a key role to play in the future, and this is part of what sets it off.

Anyway, thank you everybody, and see you soon. Hopefully in two to three days with an update for QOTG.

* * *

Next time…

Frodo and Sam proceed through Emyn Muil, just as hopelessly lost as before. They know now that Gollum is definitely on their tails, but they are still unaware of the three red TV-headed creatures which are also spying on them from above and following them. But Gollum is prepared to try a second attempt at obtaining his precious. How will things play out?

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 15 : The Taming of Sméagol**


	15. The Taming of Sméagol

Hello all. Sorry it took me a few days to get this chapter up, but I need to complete my first large assignment of the year already and I still haven't finished it. I've still got a while before its in, but I'd quite like to finish it now before I get another assignment which will further cut into my writing updates if I have to do two assignments at the same time. Anyway, I churned out this chapter regardless, and while parts of it are still very similar to the movie, I hope that you enjoy reading it anyway, as there are bits that are very different too.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 15:- The Taming of Sméagol**

* * *

The towering rocks of Emyn Muil continued to provide an impenetrable and frustrating barrier to the two Halflings which were currently attempting to navigate their way through the gigantic maze. They'd been here now for goodness knows how long, and yet they were still seemingly no closer to finding their way out. Or even finding their way to the edge of the damned rocky landscape.

Both were becoming increasingly weary, and it was about this time that both Frodo and Sam wished that they owned a pair of shoes. The tough, hairy feet of the Hobbits were more than enough to allow them to walk comfortably in most environments, but there were so many jagged stones and bits of rock underfoot here and they were both getting tired of being pricked in the soles of their feet.

Both of them were still very much shaken up by their earlier encounter. Frodo had long been aware that Gollum had been doggedly pursuing them, eager to once again regain the One Ring, but that had been his first true encounter with the creature that his Uncle had met on his great adventure to the Lonely Mountain so long ago.

As Frodo walked, he remembered what he had been told about Gollum from Bilbo's account of his journey. He remember Bilbo's description of Gollum's appearance and behaviour giving him the shivers, for Bilbo had described Gollum as one of the most wretched and terrifying creatures that he had met. Gollum's gangly frame and odd habit of talking to himself made him almost scarier in some ways than the trolls or the goblins which he had also had to face, who had been more… in-your-face scary.

Gollum had just been creepy.

Frodo had never thought he would actually encounter the creature himself, and he had always been profoundly glad of that. But now he had. Last night had been the first time he'd seen Gollum close up, heard him speak, felt his long-fingered hands trying to either prize the Ring away or choke the life out of him, or both.

Frodo shivered. This was a far cry from his sheltered life in the Shire.

Sam had heard the story of Bilbo's adventure many times himself, and he was wondering something similar. He had always been enthralled by what Bilbo had told him, about the Elves especially, and he had been so glad to go to Rivendell and see them for himself. He had felt as if he had become a part of Bilbo's legacy. And seeing the stone trolls which Bilbo had spoken to when they had been alive had been wondrous too, even if only for a moment since Frodo had been suffering at the time.

But this was one part of Bilbo's supposed legacy that he could have quite happily missed out on. He could still feel the marks in his neck where Gollum had bitten into him, thankful for his cloak softening the blow or he might be in some serious trouble right now. Still, he had washed the marks at the earliest opportunity – who knew what disgusting things that villain had coated on his teeth.

Now, though, the Hobbits were confused and worried for another reason. While neither of them had brought it up, preferring to press on in silence and finally find a way out of this forsaken place, both of them were silently wondering what in the world that strange blue, metal-covered thing that had saved them from Gollum could have been. Neither of them had heard of anything like it before, and both of them had paid attention to the tales of strange creatures told by Gandalf and by the Dwarves that Bilbo often had for company.

Never had anything remotely like that ever been mentioned.

Yet it had seemed friendly enough. And it had been able to speak, even though it had no visible mouth.

Still, they had left it behind at the earliest possible point, though Frodo had to admit that they needed to work on their lying skills. Both of them knew that the swiftly concocted story they made up to satisfy the creature and get away from it had been hopelessly bad and they were pretty sure the creature hadn't bought it at all, even though it hadn't followed them.

Now, the two of them were attempting to make their way down a slope of loose scree and it was tough going for both of them, though Sam especially because of his large and heavy pack. Every few seconds one of them would lose their footing and slide a way down the slope, wincing as the small rocks grazed at their ankles and the backs of their legs.

Frodo paused about half-way down to catch his breath, trying to find a relatively secure foothold to at least stay still. Sam slipped past him several feet before coming to a stop himself, one arm flailing in the air as he tried to steady his momentum before he grimaced and said, "You know, Mister Frodo… I really think that we might have had a better time just going around instead of through this place."

Frodo nodded with a grimace. "Probably a faster time too. And there would be less places for any enemies to jump out at us."

Sam looked perturbed. "You think that Gollum will try again?" he asked, his hand straying towards his short sword as he looked around him in search of the small but lithe creature.

Frodo mimicked his silent staring for a moment and then he mumbled, "I know he will, Sam. He hasn't tracked us all the way from Mordor to Moria and then back here to give up so easily. You have to admit, there were points when he almost had us before."

Sam nodded. "Well, next time we should use swords from the start," he said. "That's our best advantage over him. He doesn't have one after all."

Frodo agreed, continuing to stare outwards and shivering. He could never shake the distinct feeling that he was being watched, which had grown significantly ever since Gollum's attack. For all he knew, Gollum was out there somewhere – his large and staring eyes fixed on Frodo, knowing that was the Hobbit which carried the Ring, and already planning on how to seize the moment and get back what he thought belonged to him.

It was giving him far more unease than normal. This was the first time since Bree that Frodo had had to face anything without the back up of some expert magic user, sword wielder, master archer or axe swinger. Not since the Black Riders had the Hobbits been forced to face anything alone, and now there were less Hobbits than before.

Still, it wasn't as if Gollum was as bad as a Black Rider, was it? The Black Riders had been the most terrifying things that Frodo had had to face himself so far. Even the Watcher in the Water and the Cave Troll had not been as bad as them, though the Balrog had come close and probably would have been scarier if Frodo had been closer to it when it had attacked.

Frodo felt a small amount of confidence return to him. If he could escape from Black Riders and Cave Trolls then he could deal with Gollum, couldn't he?

Still, the lack of the reassuring presence of Gandalf or Aragorn meant that that confidence didn't rise by a great deal.

"Come on, Sam," he said. "Let's try and stay on the higher ground… keep away from the foggy areas as much as possible. As long as we head towards those mountains, we know we're at least going in the right direction." He nodded towards the distant towering peaks that surrounded their destination of Mordor.

"Trouble with that is, Mister Frodo," Sam sighed as they began to make their way back on down the scree slope. "This place seems to be trying especially hard to turn us around. None of its level whatsoever. No wonder nothing lives here."

"Maybe that strange blue creature lives here," Frodo suggested, skidding on down past Sam slightly. "What do you think it might have been?"

"Don't have a clue, Mister Frodo," Sam grimaced as sharp bits of rock covered his feet. "Never heard of anything of its like in any of the stories. Looked a bit like one of those beetles I find quite often when I'm doing your gardening, but at the same time nothing like them. 'Cept for the horn."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it did live here, whatever it is," Frodo agreed. "It would explain why we've never heard about anything like it. Nobody would be able to find it in a place like this."

"Must be a lonely life if that's the case," Sam said as they neared the bottom. "I feel a little sorry for it, truth be told. It saved us from that Gollum as soon as it found us and we just left it alone again."

"We did say thank you though," Frodo pointed out.

"I suppose," Sam said. "But maybe we could have been a bit nicer. Didn't seem to mean no harm."

"I agree," Frodo replied. "But we can't let anyone come with us. Not anymore. This is our task alone now, Sam. Even if it didn't want to hurt us, I wouldn't want to put it at risk. That's why I left the others behind."

Sam nodded unhappily, following Frodo down. "I know, Mister Frodo. I know. But don't expect me to go leaving your side anytime soon. Even if you try to leave, I will follow."

Frodo smiled. "Everybody needs a true friend, Sam. I'm glad I have mine with me now."

"Wonder if that blue creature had any true friends," Sam murmured.

"We'll probably never know."

Sam sighed and turned back to look up at the tall slope that they had just come down. "What say you we don't try navigating another one of those for a while, Mister Frodo?"

"Agreed," Frodo nodded.

As Sam turned back, something suddenly caught his eye and his head snapped around quickly. For a brief moment, less than half a second, he thought he had seen a flash of red moving slightly on one of the distant clifftops. He paused and stared, eyes narrowed, searching for any sign of anything moving, but there was nothing. Just boulders and thin rolling fog, like normal.

Frodo noticed that Sam was lagging behind and turned back with a frown, before looking off in the same direction.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. "Just my imagination. Thought I saw something red moving really fast for a moment there but it was only out the very corner of my eye." He sighed and turned back. "Must be seeing things. Lack of good food can do that to you, I reckons."

"We have the lembas," Frodo pointed out.

"And not much else," Sam countered.

"True," Frodo nodded.

As the Hobbits moved on, Sam pondered more on what he had just seen, or possibly seen, and finally came to the conclusion that it was his mind playing tricks on him. It couldn't have been Gollum. There was no part of Gollum that was red. It must have been some obscure trick of sunlight mixing with fog or something. Yes, that sounded about right.

Sam put it from his mind and focused more of finding the way out of this place, like he was meant to.

* * *

Watching from the shadows high above, Gollum let loose a low snarl. He was keeping so low to the ground beneath him that he was practically on his belly, moving along the cliffs like some giant bow-legged spider, creeping over and around boulders with ease.

"Nasty little hobbitses," he growled quietly to himself, as he usually did. "They think they can keep us from our birthday present, precious. Thieveses. Walking towards the Dark Place on their hairy legses and keeping the precious all to themselves, they are. Yes, precious. Sneaky little creatures, they are. _Gollum, Gollum._"

He paused behind a boulder and watched them traverse through another ravine, looking around them warily for any sign of the creature they now knew to be following them. As Frodo's gaze turned in his general direction, Gollum slipped stealthily back behind the boulder.

"But now there are now nasty Elves or Big Men with their brutish hands and slippery swords to look after them. All alone they are now. Soon, we shall take it back. It's ours. It has always been ours. It is not for hobbitses or Dark Lords. It is ours."

And then Gollum's bizarre habit of asking himself questions and then answering them began to shine through, his voice softening and then growing harsher within each internal exchange.

"And what will we do with them when we gets it back, precious?"

"Then we shall let them know us. Miserable, we have been, without it. We shall make them miserable too, before we eats them."

"Is we going to make them hurt?"

"Yes, precious. _Gollum._ We shall make them suffer. We shall break them, bit by bit, and let them bleed, make them suffer, until they begs us to finish them. They will plead to be eaten. No riddle-games with this Bagginses. We shall squeeze their neckses until they gasp and retch like fish out of the water."

"Is that a little bit too much? They were not the ones who took it from us?"

"But they keeps it from us now. And we know that the one who carries it is also a Bagginses. Baggins took it from us and we shall take it back from a Baggins. It is… what we have always wanted since it was taken."

"Yes, yes, yes. When shall we take it? We must go for it now!"

"No, not yet, precious. They are looking for us now. They know that we are here, watching them. We must be careful. They have little swordses of their own. We must surprise them, like grabbing a fish from a stream."

"Yes. There is two of them and only one of us. What shall we do about the second one?"

"The fat one is stronger, but he is easy prey too. But as long as he is there, he will get in the way. We shall get him first."

"But he is not the one with it, precious."

"No. But he was always stopping us before just when we was about to reclaim it. We get rid of him first, then even if the other one gets away, we can find him easy. And then, he will be alone. He will be… vulnerable. And this time, we shall surprise them. They will not surprise us a second time."

"And there will be no big blue things to get in our way this time too."

Gollum snarled at his own declaration as he remembered how Ballistamon had bodily thrown him away and then pinned him to the ground with a heavy foot. "No, my precious. There will be no surprises this time. You will see. The precious will be ours again before the yellow face goes down and the white face comes up. And then, we will never let it go. Never."

"Shall we set a trap?"

"Yes. Yes, we shall." And he cackled quietly to himself as he moved on, keen to overtake the Hobbits below and find a good place for his planned ambush.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ravine which the Hobbits were currently traversing, the three red Monitamon were still waiting and observing. Having given up on trying to find their way back to Ballistamon, they had decided to attempt to follow the Hobbits, hoping that they would lead them to a way out of this mess of rocks.

And also to keep an eye out for their safety.

But so far, it seemed that the former option was not going to happen anytime soon. The Monitamon might not be geniuses, but they had figured out that these little children (or so they thought of them), were just as lost as they were themselves, and were struggling to find a way out. They could tell both from snippets of conversation they overheard when they were close enough and their general demeanour.

And, while the Hobbits had failed to notice Gollum, even they though knew he was almost definitely following them, the Monitamon had indeed spotted him. Though it looked like Gollum, in turn, had not yet spotted them.

After all, they were much better at being ninjas than they used to be. Granted they still weren't as good as the green Monitamon had been when they were part of the war effort and the green Monitamon themselves had gotten better, but the dunce Monitamon weren't quite as dunce-like as they used to be.

Though they still had their moments.

"Looks like that thing is going to strike again soon," D-Monitamon-2 observed, as they crept along, watching Gollum's progress. "He's speeding up now. Looks like he's trying to get ahead of them and maybe set a trap."

"That guy creeps me out," shuddered D-Monitamon-1. "Look at the way he moves. There are no Digimon with hands and feet that move like that are there? If there were then we would know about them."

"He is weird," D-Monitamon-2 agreed. "What do you think he even is? He's _not_ a human, is he?"

"I don't know. All I know is that he's not a Digimon," D-Monitamon-3 said. "But that doesn't matter right now." He sprang onto a rock and posed dramatically. "Ballistamon charged us with watching out for those guys down there, so we will…"

"Sssh!" the other Monitamon hissed, grabbing him and pulling him back down behind cover, right as both Gollum and the two Hobbits down below halted and turned to look in their direction with bemused looks. Seeing nothing and noticing his quarry had stopped, Gollum quickly continued on and, after a moment so did the Hobbits, though they kept throwing glances back towards the Monitamon's hiding place.

"Are you mad?" D-Monitamon-1 hissed, removing his hand from the speaker that functioned as the Monitamon's mouth. "We're not supposed to let anybody know that we're here, remember."

"Sorry," D-Monitamon-3 rubbed the back of his TV set sheepishly. "Got carried away. King Shoutmon wasn't here to give a dramatic speech so I thought I'd give it a go."

"I wish that King Shoutmon was here," D-Monitamon-2 muttered. "Or anyone else actually. They would know what to do, wouldn't they? About that creature over there."

"Well we have to try and come up with something ourselves since they're not here," D-Monitamon-1 sighed. "If that thing tries to attack those guys, then we have to do what Ballistamon did before and stop it from hurting them somehow. Our powers have improved a little recently. I think that we might be able to take it."

"I hope so," D-Monitamon-2 agreed. "Come on, quick. It's getting away now."

The three Monitamon quickly followed, dashing between the rocks and peering out in attempts to keep themselves hidden while keeping both of their separate quarries in view. It was relatively easy for them to do, since none of them appeared to consider looking their way, but Gollum was beginning to get ahead of the others.

"Quick," D-Monitamon-1 suggested. "We shouldn't lose sight of him. I'll move on ahead, and you guys keep an eye on those two guys down below. But let's try and stay in range of one another, okay?"

The other Monitamon nodded – they had no desire to be separated from the other two at this point. After all, they were the only ones that the others had at this point. To find themselves alone would be downright terrifying.

And all the while; Frodo, Sam and Gollum alike remained oblivious to their small tagalongs. But the Monitamon were becoming increasingly sure that Gollum was going to attempt to make his move soon, and when he did… well, who knew what was going to happen?

* * *

"I think we picked the wrong path, Mister Frodo," Sam sighed as they continued through another ravine. "We haven't found any way of even getting back up to higher ground for over an hour now. And I don't know about you but there's been so many twists and turns in this thing that it feels like we've been completely turned around."

"I know what you mean," Frodo agreed. "And we have no way of knowing if we _have_ been turned around because we can't see anything useful."

"Maybe we should have asked that blue thing for help after all," Sam said wistfully. "It might have known a way out of this place."

"Perhaps," Frodo agreed, turning back to face his companion. "But the Lady Galadriel told me that we would have to accomplish this task alone."

"That may be, Mister Frodo," Sam nodded. "But we can't accomplish the task if we don't even know where we're going."

Frodo sighed, reaching down to rub the bottom of his sore foot. "We have no choice but to keep going. Every moment counts in getting out of this place now. We've been in here for too long and the enemy grows stronger while we wander around lost." And he set off again into the ravine.

"I know," Sam confirmed, stepping after him. "And I'll be glad to put this creepy place behind me. It's too still and quiet for my liking. Doesn't feel natural."

Frodo laughed dryly. "The place we're going will be much worse than this, Sam."

"True. But hopefully they'll be a nicer bit in-between."

Frodo resisted the urge to snort as he carried on walking. They continued in this manner for several more minutes, before Sam finally felt the need to restart the conversation and said, "Do you think that we've lost that Gollum by this point?"

"I highly doubt it, Sam," Frodo called back. "Bilbo told me that he was an expert at being stealthy. He used to hunt and eat goblins in the Misty Mountains. He could be anywhere around here."

"There's a pleasant thought," Sam murmured, looking up at the clifftops warily. "How long do you think it will be before he…?"

The rest of Sam's sentence was cut off when, with a retching snarl, Gollum sprang out from behind the boulder that Sam had just walked straight past like a panther bounding out of a tree and slammed his full body-weight into Sam's back, planting himself onto the backpack like a limpet. The wind was knocked out of Sam instantly and he thudded to the ground with a slam that bruised his ribs and pushed the rest of the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water.

Gollum's clammy hands seized him by the back of the neck and constricted his airway, while Frodo spun around at the sound of the noise, eyes widened in horror as he saw his travelling companion in the clutches of their enemy. Frodo quickly drew his sword, not willing to get into another wrestling match like last time, and rushed forwards, but Gollum was quicker. Keeping hold of Sam with one arm, he lashed out his other hand to grab a chunk of rock and throw it.

The rock slammed Frodo in the gut and he gasped, buckling over and clutching at his stomach, Sting gripped loosely in his hand. Gollum seized the moment and sprang off Sam, crashing into Frodo and sending him rolling away. Despite this, Frodo still managed to keep hold of Sting and he tried to raise it to strike, but Gollum's hands shot out and seized Frodo's own before he could do anything else. Gollum pushed himself further upright and hurled Frodo to the side with strength that belied his wiry frame.

Frodo's head slammed slightly against the cliff wall and he dropped, momentarily stunned. Gollum's swift desire for 'the precious' overwhelmed him and he was about to abandon his previous plan and go for it now, but Sam had scrambled back up by this point and drawn his own sword. He was still heaving for breath, but he dashed forwards with a yell at the attacking creature.

Gollum whirled around and snarled, going back to the original plan of disposing of Sam first, charging forwards to confront him. Winded as he was, Sam's swing was far more sluggish and mistimed than it might otherwise have been and Gollum easily ducked under it and catapulted himself forwards, shoulder slamming into Sam's gut and throwing him off his feet to crash onto his back. Breathless yet again, Sam could only squirm feebly as Gollum's hands found his throat and tightened, rotten teeth clearly visible as he leered into Sam's face.

"Fat one is the first to go," Gollum cackled, more to himself than Sam. "He is no match for us and when he is dead, there is no one left to protect the one with the precious. Yes, yes. Feast on Hobbitses today we will, precious. We wonder if they taste better than nasty orcses."

Sam was beginning to black out and his struggles were becoming increasingly feeble. Nearby, Frodo clutched at his head, seeing stars, but nevertheless scrambling to pick up his sword and attempt to get over and use it on Gollum, but he was stumbling wildly, unable to balance properly and he head pounding.

Gollum was nearly beside himself with glee at the prospect of finally killing a Hobbit. But his excitement was destined to be short-lived, because at that moment something plummeted down from above and crashed squarely into the top of Gollum's head with a loud thunk. Gollum screeched and automatically reeled away, hands losing their grip on Sam's throat as he collapsed sideways, clutching at his scalp and trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Ouch," said the small, red thing which had been what had dropped down, and was now pushing itself back up to its feet. Frodo, who could now see better again, stopped to gape at it as it pushed itself up. It was small – even by Hobbit standards, coming up to perhaps just beyond the Hobbit's knees in terms of height, if that. And its head was completely square, or possibly cubed. It didn't even have a face – it just had a blank side of the cube where the head should be. Frodo couldn't even begin to comprehend what he was currently looking at.

"Well, that's one way to interfere," the thing said somehow despite the fact it didn't have a mouth. "Fall off the clifftop and bonk your opponent on the head. Did the King ever do that?"

"He jumped off MailBirdramon once and whacked Olegmon in the head," a similar sounding voice was heard, and Frodo looked up to see two other identical looking creatures, bounding down the various ledges with what looked like ease. "But he never fell off something to do that."

"That ledge had a loose bit," complained the one on the ground. "It wasn't my fault."

"What… what is going on?" Frodo blustered, looking at the three of them incredulously.

"Oh yeah. Hello," one of the two on the ledges waved. "Sorry to burst in on you like this…"

"Don't you mean 'drop' in," another muttered.

"…But we thought that you might need some help dealing with that g… look out!"

The one on the ground whipped around just in time to see a recovered Gollum springing at him with coiled muscles like an angry snake. The strange creature sprang upwards and out of the way as Gollum spun around and attempted to swipe him in the air, though the creature managed to twist to get out of harm's way.

Gollum landed on the ground with limbs splayed, hissing furiously through what teeth he had left, while the red creature landed not far away, the other two bounding down to a lower level. Gollum was seething, and he snarled at all three of them, causing them to take steps backwards fearfully. Clearly none of them had ever gone up against something like Gollum before.

"What is it now, precious?" Gollum hissed, his fingers moving up to touch the raw place on top of his head where the creature had landed cube-head-first. "We has been interrupted again. But they shall not interfere. Not this time. We will get it back!" And he threw himself forwards and bounded up onto the cliff face beneath the creatures, scrambling up towards them and clearly out for blood.

The creatures squealed and jumped back, avoiding Gollum's furious swing, but the twisted former Ring-bearer was far from done and threw himself after them. One of them hurriedly cupped its hands together and cried, **"WATER DRAGON!"** and Gollum found himself very surprised to find a small spurt of water being shot into his face from nowhere. It didn't physically hurt him, of course, but it did cause him to lose his grip in surprise and tumble back down the cliff-wall.

Cat-like in his landing, Gollum easily flipped onto his face before he hit the ground. Emboldened, the other two of the three creatures stepped forwards to the edge of the ledge. One of them hurled down a small fireball, while the second sent out a jab of what looked like a very tiny lightning bolt.

Gollum avoided the former with ease, but he was zapped by the electric attack and let loose a cry of surprise. Again, he wasn't particularly hurt by the attack, but it was a shock in both senses of the word. Gollum snarled, frustrated, but the sound of movement behind him caused him to turn sharply, and he saw both of the Hobbits were now back on their feet. Sam still appeared slightly winded but now he was visibly angry and was more than capable of fighting, and Frodo had a look of solid determination on his face.

Both of them had their swords drawn and were dashing towards him, seemingly with the intent to use them.

Gollum decided that this wasn't worth it. Not yet. He had waited so long to regain his precious that he could wait a bit more and his ambush had been ruined by those strange creatures. Acting quickly with astounding agility for someone of his stature, Gollum sprang onto a nearby boulder and took a flying leap onto the other cliff wall and scrambled up it with intent to escape.

"Get back here you!" Sam yelled. "Get down here and fight fairly, coward."

Gollum stopped halfway up the wall and turned to glare down at them. "Filthy little hobbitses!" he screeched. "They is the ones that fights unfairly with their stabbing sticks. We _will_ get it back."

But both Gollum and the Hobbits were completely taken aback when the three red creatures bounded across the canyon and up the wall right past Gollum so quickly that they were nothing but a series of red blurs from ledge to ledge. Before Gollum could even think about moving off again, all three of them had sprang past him and raised their stubby arms up in front of them.

"**WIND WHEEL!" **All three of them cried, spinning in a circle at the same time to each generate a small wind out of nowhere, combining the three together into a large wind which buffeted at Gollum's face. Unprepared for this as he was, Gollum lost his hand-hold and when plummeting back down the ravine once again.

He landed with a thump once again on his feet and immediately tried to scramble away, but before he could do much about it he was suddenly seized by the arms by both Hobbits. There was a brief struggling match between them but using their superior weight and teamwork, the two Hobbits managed to haul Gollum upright and slam him against the wall, levelling both of their swords so that the points where right beneath Gollum's chin.

Gollum went very still almost instantly. He was so gangly that the tendons in his neck were easily visible and he pushed himself back and away from the sword-tips.

"Yes! You got him," cheered one of the red things as they landed nearby. "Well done guys. We did it!"

"Hey, maybe we're not so bad after all," another one agreed happily.

"Wait until we tell the King about this," chuckled the third.

For their part, Frodo and Sam ignored this exchange. It was clear that the red creatures weren't a threat to them at present, but Gollum was which meant that he was a priority.

"Got you, you villain," Sam said through gritted teeth, his throat still paining him from where Gollum had strangled him. "You won't be able to squirm your way out of this one, will you, like you squirm your way out of everything else."

Gollum wisely held his silence. Sam looked only moments away from doing something drastic.

Frodo couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment in this. Yes, they had had some unexpected help and Gollum's attack had been far more co-ordinated than his last attempt, meaning that they might have lost if that help had not arrived, but subduing their first enemy since the separation from the rest of the Fellowship gave Frodo a little help for the future.

"So, what are we going to do with you then, Gollum?" Frodo asked.

"Nice Hobbit," Gollum gave what was probably an attempt at a disarming smile, but it just came off as a pitiful grimace. "Hobbitses aren't cruel like nasty Elves and Men. They could just let us go and we would never trouble them again. Yes, precious, we wouldn't."

"I find that hard to believe," Frodo raised a brow. "We know why you're here. You've been following us across several countries – I've seen you several times since the Misty Mountains. And I know why you're following me. You won't ever get it again, Gollum, but I know that you won't give up if we just let you go. You'll just keep following us."

"We should just stick him now by my reckoning," Sam said harshly.

"Sam!" Frodo looked across at his companion in alarm.

"I didn't say we would, Mister Frodo," Sam grimaced. "I'm just saying we should. It's what he deserves. He's a murderer and a sneak. I don't rightly know if I could do it if I tried but… well, he's had it coming to him for a while is all."

Gollum suddenly wailed piteously, his head pressing as far back against the wall as possible and letting out a scream of despair. Both Frodo and Sam had to stop themselves from flinching. Gollum sagged back against the rock and sank down against the ground, both Hobbits keeping their blades firmly pointed at him.

"Well we can't kill him now – he's an unarmed prisoner," Frodo said. "Gandalf would never kill a prisoner, and neither would Aragorn. It wouldn't be right."

"Then what are supposed to do?" Sam asked, with a grimace on his face. "And be quiet, would you?" he added sharply to Gollum, but Gollum refused to stop shrieking at the top of his lungs, his body going almost completely flaccid as he wallowed in his failure and self-pity.

"Allow me," said one of the red creatures brightly, dropping onto the floor next to Gollum. Frodo and Sam looked startled and wary, but as the creature turned to look at Gollum – or at least they assumed it was looking at Gollum since it didn't have a face – it placed a hand against the base of its blank head, studying Gollum carefully.

Then, he stepped forwards and jabbed a hand right at a point in Gollum's neck. Gollum's wailing instantly stopped and with a strangled gasp he went completely limp, lolling against the rocks and staring sightlessly at nothing.

Frodo and Sam momentarily stepped backwards in alarm, leaving Gollum a golden opportunity to leap up and escape, except that he didn't. He just lay there, seemingly dead to the world.

"Yes!" celebrated the small red creature. "I got it right. I've been hoping for a chance to use that technique."

"What did you do?" Frodo asked in alarm.

"I knocked him unconscious by pressing against a specific nerve in his body which will temporarily paralyse him. He should be out of it for about ten minutes or so before he comes round again. It was a technique taught to me by one of the more experienced ninjas but it's quite difficult to use against most Digimon, and I've never had a chance to try it before."

Frodo and Sam just stared uncomprehendingly and the red creature just sighed. "It might be best to restrain him before he wakes up," it suggested. "Do you have a rope or something."

"Rope?" Sam said. "Oh yes, I have rope. Elvish rope." He looked excited at the prospect and heaved his pack off his back to search for it.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked, as Sam rummaged in his pack, looking at the three identical creatures standing by the limp Gollum. "And for that matter what are you? You're not the first creatures that we've stumbled upon while amongst these rocks which we've never seen or heard of before. And curiously on both occasions they happened right after Gollum attacked."

"Yes, we know that," one of them raised its hand. "Er… we're called Monitamon. We don't really have different names – we're all just Monitamon, and we are Digimon."

"Digimon?" Frodo frowned. "Wait… that creature from before. The blue, metal beetle. He said that he was a Digimon. And he said his name was… oh, I've forgotten."

"Ballistamon," said another one of the creatures. "Yes, he's a friend of ours. And we're all Digimon."

"But you can't both be the same thing, can you?" Frodo looked totally bemused. "You're too different. Or are you young Digimon while he's an older one or something?"

"No, it's nothing like that," one of the Monitamon piped up, this particular one being D-Monitamon-3. "That's just the way we Digimon are. We can come in just about any shape or size. The only thing that is the same about all of us and the thing which makes us Digimon is the fact that we are made of data instead of… what you guys are made of."

Both the Hobbits were staring now, Sam holding a coil of Elvish rope loosely in one hand. "I'm sorry?" Frodo asked. "You're made of… what? I don't think I've ever heard that word before."

"You haven't?" D-Monitamon-2 asked, suddenly looking very worried despite the fact he still had no face. "Oh, that's not good. We _must_ be lost if nobody here knows what data is."

"Ballistamon thought that we were no longer in the Digital World, didn't he?" D-Monitamon-3 said worriedly. "What if this really isn't the Digital or the Human World? What if we've ended up stranded in a completely alien place with no way back?"

All three of the Monitamon looked terrified, shivering on the spot and threatening to fall over due to how nervous they were. As Frodo looked down at them, he felt some slight pity for them well up inside him. Half of the things they were saying were completely passing by his understanding, but if he got the gist of what they were saying, they were hopelessly lost far from home, with no way of knowing where home was or where anything was in this place. Ballistamon had said that he didn't know where anything was either.

"Well, there is another one of you Digimon running around this rock labyrinth somewhere," Frodo suggested. "Perhaps you could try and find him if you say he's your friend."

The Monitamon had the grace to look a little bit embarrassed, looking at each other nervously before D-Monitamon-1 coughed and said, "Erm… well, actually we were there with Ballistamon when he first met you guys last night. We were travelling with him together, trying to find out where we were when we heard you being attacked and went to investigate."

"We're not much good at fighting you see," D-Monitamon-2 said. "That's why we didn't show ourselves earlier. We're much better at being sneaky and spying and scoping places out than we are at fighting."

"Wait a minute," Sam said suspiciously. "If you were there the first time… then does that mean that you've been following us for the better part of a day?"

Now the Monitamon all looked _really_ shifty. "Erm… yes," nodded D-Monitamon-1.

"So you were watching us the whole time?" Frodo asked in alarm, his hand unconsciously reaching up to press against his chest protectively and stepping back from the three of them, looking suspicious.

"Well, yeah," D-Monitamon-3 said. "We're really sorry for following you, but Ballistamon was worried about you – he thought that you were in some sort of trouble, and it's part of our group's beliefs that we always help people who need it. Plus he thought you could be attacked again by this guy," he jerked an arm at Gollum.

"At first we were just going to follow you for a little while," D-Monitamon-2 promised. "Make sure you were alright and stuff. But then… er… none of us could remember the way back to Ballistamon after a while. We were lost on our own and… I was scared."

"We were all scared, "D-Monitamon-1 confirmed.

"So since we had no idea which way to go, we decided to keep following you to see if you would lead us out of the rocks and also to keep an eye out for attacks by this guy like Ballistamon wanted us to," D-Monitamon-3 finished. "We're really sorry for sneaking around behind you but we didn't want this guy to be prepared for us if he found you. We saw him following you for quite some time before. So, please forgive us."

The three Monitamon clasped their hands together and looked piteously at the Hobbits and both of them were rather surprised to see small images appear on the blank faces, which looked like giant eyes which were tearing up as if they were going to cry at any moment.

What they said _did_ reassure Frodo somewhat. It didn't look like these creatures could possibly be minions of Sauron and they didn't seem to know about the Ring, but the fact they had been able to follow him so easily, as had Gollum, made him feel a little uneasy too. But mostly, he just felt sorry for them. If they were lost in a place they didn't understand… then they were not so different from the Hobbits themselves at this point.

Sam, on the other hand, was more suspicious. "Hold on," he said. "Shouldn't you have gone back to try and find your friend when you realised you were lost?" he asked. "It's what I would have done."

"Ballistamon will be alright," D-Monitamon-1 replied. "He's more than capable of taking care of himself against many things. Besides, the other members of Xros Heart would never leave the side of people who could be in trouble. It's not what we do."

"Our catchphrase is – 'We can't turn our back on you,'" D-Monitamon-2 said proudly, tapping his chest with a fist. "It applies to anyone with a good heart who is in trouble, and even to people who don't have good hearts if they're in danger sometimes."

"We wanted to be like them," D-Monitamon-3 finished. "We wanted to help protect people in trouble on our own for the first time."

Frodo's doubts about these creature's allegiance had been mostly dissuaded by this point. He found it very hard to believe that these creatures would be servants of darkness. But still, he treated them with an air of caution. They were too strange and there were too many unanswered questions surrounding them for him to treat them any other way. But that didn't mean he couldn't be friendly.

"It is nice to meet you then," he said. "Thank you very much for saving us from Gollum. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't turned up when you did, but he was coming very close to winning, of that I am sure."

"You can say that again," Sam said, massaging his throat. "I guess I owe you my thanks too. If you hadn't come down when you did, I don't think I would have made it."

"Our pleasure," D-Monitamon-2 said bashfully. "But honestly, I only tripped. We were coming down to help anyway, but I slipped and fell off."

"You still probably saved my life," Sam nodded. "I'm grateful. Even if you were spying on us before." He turned his face towards Gollum and his face turned sour. "But now we've got to figure out what to do about this guy."

"We'll use the rope for now," Frodo nodded. "Sam, can you tie something round his neck which he won't be able to get off but which won't strangle him if he pulls on it too hard."

"Course I can," Sam gave a smile. "My Old Gaffer taught me lots of different ways of tying knots, including how to make sure they don't get tighter under stress. It's simple enough when you know how. I don't like the thought of touching this guy though," he added sourly as he stepped forwards, pulling Gollum's unconscious body unceremoniously onto its side and beginning to wrap the rope around his neck.

"How many different kinds of knots does a vegetable gardener like your Old Gaffer need to learn about?" Frodo asked with a chuckle.

"You never know when they can come in handy," Sam said defensively, as he looped the rope around. "And sometimes we get called out to help on pig farms in the bad seasons. You need to know how not to strangle a pig when you're leading them somewhere."

"True enough," Frodo chuckled. The turned more serious and said, "So, what are we going to do with Gollum here?"

"Don't rightly know," Sam shrugged. "What's the betting we can lose him somehow if we just leave him here?"

"Almost none," Frodo shook his head as Sam finished the rope and lashed the other end to a rock. "He's far too good at tracking, even in a place like this. He can't have kept us in sight all the way on our journey. Legolas would have spotted him more often if he had."

"That's what I thought," Sam nodded. "But if we're not going to kill him then that doesn't leave us with many options."

"I know, Sam," Frodo nodded. "I'm at a loss at the moment. But we definitely can't…"

Gollum chose this particular moment to wake up with a gasp and attempt to flail onto his feet wildly. Sam and Frodo both stiffened and held their swords ready in case he tried something, but to their amazement Gollum never made it to his feet. In mid-flail, he suddenly howled an almost unholy sound and collapsed back to the floor, hands flying to his neck and grabbing at the rope which Sam had placed there.

The Hobbits stood there, transfixed, as did the Monitamon, and watched as Gollum writhed on the floor, clawing desperately at the thin cord. Sam wondered if he'd made a mistake and he was being strangled, but then he saw quite clearly that the rope was loose around Gollum's neck. Not enough for him to pull it off over his head without loosening it further but he was in no danger of choking. And besides, if someone was choking, they wouldn't be able to let rip with the screams that he was doing. They were echoing through the ravine and could probably be heard a mile away.

Gollum looked up piteously at them and wailed, "Take it off us. Nasty Hobbitses, cruel Hobbitses, putting work of Elves on us. It bites us, it scratches us. It hurts. They is wishing to cause us pain. They is torturing, like the orcses from the Black Tower."

Frodo's felt his stomach clench as he watched Gollum. While he had been out for blood several minutes ago, right now he looked nothing like the evil creature that Frodo had always pictured him as. He was whimpering and wailing like someone was cutting into him with iron blades. He pulled futilely at the rope, which refused to loosen, tighten or snap, and then he pulled his hands away as if he'd plunged them into a wasp's nest and flailed them in the air, collapsing backwards against the rock.

Sam snapped out of his astonishment and grabbed the rope, jerking it slightly. "Will you be quiet?" he growled. Gollum hacked as his windpipe was momentarily closed and gasped when it was released, falling back against the floor, moaning and gurgling like some rabid animal on its deathbed.

Frodo's heart was pounding in his chest. It was quite obvious that the rope was causing him pain for some reason. Could it be some magic that the Elves had put into it? They didn't seem like the type to torture people – the Elves were a noble race. But then again, this rope had not been designed for restraining a captive. Yet it seemed to be working. If not in the way he had expected.

"What kind of rope is that?" one of the Monitamon asked fearfully.

"You should take it off him," said another. "It's hurting him for some reason. He's in pain."

"It's gnaws at us," Gollum moaned feebly. "It is made by the Elves of that bright forest. It took us ages to get the smell of their leaves from our handses. Please take it off us."

Sam was unconvinced. "Are you trying to fool us, Gollum? You think that would work? You think that you can trick us into releasing you so that you can just run off and attack again? I don't think so."

"Sam," Frodo placed a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. "I think that he's telling the truth."

"The Elves wouldn't put something like this into their craft," Sam looked scandalised. "It has to be a trick."

"Elven magic has always opposed darkness, Sam," Frodo pointed out. "And Gollum's long been infected with darkness. Darkness of the worst kind. I think he really is in pain."

Sam looked a bit put out by this, and he feebly muttered. "Well… we can't take it off him. Who knows what tricks he would attempt to pull if we freed him?"

"No tricks, no tricks," Gollum whined from the floor, pushing himself onto his front as best he could and still clawing at his neck. "Nasty rope burns at us. We can't stand it, precious. Take it off us and we will not be tricksy. Nice Hobbitses. Nice masters."

Frodo struggled not to bite his lip. He knew now why Bilbo had pitied Gollum when they had first met. Gollum was perhaps the most wretched thing that he'd ever seen. He was a shell of a person – an outcast, loathed by everybody and hated by all. He knew Gollum had carried the Ring for over five-hundred years, and that had been what had driven him to this sorry state.

Was this a glimpse of what his own future might be if he continued on this quest to Mordor?

The thought made his heart clench with fear.

"Please," Gollum murmured, and Frodo was surprised. Who would have thought that word would be a part of Gollum's vocabulary? "Take the nasty Elvish thing away. We can't take it. Have pity on us. Be nice to us like you is nice to one another. We can do what you wants. You can be the master of us, as you are the master of the precious."

"I have no desire to be the master of anything," Frodo stated firmly. "And I have little reason to trust you, Gollum. I know your history. Sam is right. How am I to know that this is not some attempt to escape?"

"We would not escape," Gollum begged. "We will do anything that you desires. We will swear it, on anything. We shall be loyal and devoted. We can defend, we can guide, we can fight. The master would only have to say it and we would do it. _Gollum, Gollum._"

Frodo flinched at that last bit. There was the unpleasant noise which Bilbo had described. And it was indeed unpleasant.

"Oh yeah?" Sam said. "If we keep you around that would only be even more dangerous."

"Well, we can't turn him loose. We wouldn't know where he'd strike next," Frodo pointed out.

"But if he's in the camp with us he could just attack us at any time," Sam complained. "Don't do it, Mister Frodo. He can't be trusted. He's a liar. We know he's a liar. Mister Bilbo even said in his stories that he was a liar. He promised to lead Mister Bilbo out of the Misty Mountains when he won the riddle contest, but instead he tried to kill him anyway. He'll surely try the same thing with us."

Frodo couldn't deny that allegation. It was completely true and very well-founded. Bilbo had guessed that Gollum had been enraged when he guessed the Bilbo had his precious Ring, but he had also guessed that he was planning to betray his promise even before he found out about that.

But Gollum shook his head wildly. "No, Master Hobbitses. We would never do that. We will swear on the precious itself that we will serve you. Yes, yes, we will, we will."

The Monitamon were standing nearby, completely lost at the moment. All three realised that this was probably their turn considering they had confused Frodo and Sam no end shortly before. They didn't have a clue what any of them were talking about now, and Gollum's bizarre speech habits were beginning to weird them out.

Frodo was considering. He glanced towards the Monitamon for a moment. He knew, or at least guessed, that they still knew nothing about the One Ring or their quest to destroy it, and he didn't want to mention it in front of them. He had no desire to get them involved in this mission. It was his mission, and the less people who knew about it the better. Even strange people like this.

But there was one thing which had struck Frodo earlier – he had said that he would guide them if they asked. And they _were_ lost after all. And Gollum had been to the place that they wanted to go to now.

He thought for a moment, trying to phrase his words carefully. "Your precious will be yours again, Gollum. Do you promise, by whatever oath you find most solemn, that you will not attempt to harm us and that you will do what I say as long as I am in possession of it?"

"Yes, precious, we will. The master of the precious will be our master too."

"But the precious is untrustworthy," pointed out Frodo. "Would that not make your promise untrustworthy in turn?"

"The precious will bind us," Gollum swore solemnly. "We swear on it that we will do as you wish."

"Say it then," Frodo nodded. "Fully."

Gollum lifted his face up to look at Frodo's. There was none of the hatred from before in his expression now, and for some reason Frodo found that to be disconcerting. He didn't really know if this was an act or not, but he remembered what Gandalf had said in Moria:-

_Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgement. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play, for good or evil, before this is over._

Could this have been what Gandalf was talking about?

"We swears, by the precious, that we will serve the master of the precious until it wishes us to leave. We will be good, we will. Yes, precious, we will."

Frodo nodded. "Fair enough. I believe you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sam put in.

"It's the best idea we have," Frodo said. "And I have to trust him. I… I have to or…" Frodo lapsed into silence momentarily before sighing and stepping forwards. Sam tensed, waiting to see if Gollum tried anything since the person he most wanted to kill had stepped so close, but Gollum held still as Frodo loosened the rope around his neck and tossed it back to Sam.

Gollum looked surprised. Frodo could see that he hadn't really thought that Frodo would do it. Other than that though his expression was unreadable. He couldn't see any sign of gratitude nor anger. It was just shock.

"You said you would guide us," Frodo nodded. "Do you know the way out of this rock labyrinth?"

Gollum's demeanour changed and he looked enthusiastic. "Yes, Master," he nodded. "We knows all the paths around here. We is always finding our way through these places easy. We can leads you out if you wants us to."

"Yes, we do," nodded Frodo. "But that's not all. You've been to Mordor before too, have you not? That's where we want to go. Take us from here to the Black Gate of Mordor. Can you do that?"

Everybody present could see the fear flash up in Gollum's face for a moment at the thought of heading there – a shudder passing through his wiry frame, but then he nodded and scrambled to his feet, rubbing his neck where the rope had been before. "To the gate, Master says? Master wishes to go and see the Gate and we will lead him there. Yes. We must hurry then." He bounded on top of a nearby boulder and nodded down the canyon. "This way, Hobbits. Shall we go?"

"How do we know you won't run off when you round the first corner?" Sam asked.

"Sam, we have no choice but to trust him," Frodo said. "He's our best hope. If he can lead us out of here then we have to risk it. Otherwise we could be lost in here for days more and you know it."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Fine. But I'm just saying that I think we should keep an eye on him. I still don't trust him."

Frodo grimaced, but nodded.

"We could do that, if you like," D-Monitamon-2 offered. "We're very good at observation. Much better than we are at fighting. We can keep watch for anything at any time."

"Uh…" Frodo faltered. Now that he'd sorted out what to do about Gollum, he had to figure out what he was meant to do about these newcomers. He knew that he had revealed much of his intentions to them already, though of course not the full extent of his mission. But still, they knew he was going to Mordor now, for whatever reason.

"What was all that about anyway?" D-Monitamon-1 asked. "All that stuff about something precious? I didn't understand any of that?"

"Oh, it's… nothing important," Frodo said quickly. "Erm… but… I don't know if you should come with us. It's a dangerous road ahead and there's every chance that you might get hurt. Possibly quite badly."

"What is these creatures being anyway?" Gollum asked, glaring at them slightly. "We have never seen anything like them before, precious. Very strange, they are."

"Actually, I think I agree with him on this one," Sam muttered.

"Well, don't worry about us," D-Monitamon-2 tapped his chest. "We can look after ourselves okay. I think. Anyway, we want to help, if we can. If you're in some kind of danger then we don't want to just leave. It's like we said – we don't turn our backs on people. For any reason."

"It sounds quite scary to me," D-Monitamon-3 shuddered. "But we can probably be of help if we need to. We can be like scouts, if you like. And we can spot enemies coming and relay the news to each other long before you get anywhere near them. We can be useful."

"This is a journey that I would very much prefer to make alone," Frodo stated. "Or at least with as little additional people as possible. There are things you don't understand, things I can't tell you, that might mean trouble for you if you were to join us. Besides, I'm sorry but I don't understand anything about you. Maybe if some of our old companions were here they would be able to make a better decision than me but… I'm sorry. Sam is my companion and I need Gollum to lead the way, but… you can't come with me on this journey."

The Monitamon hung their TV-heads, looking dejectedly at the ground.

"Is it because you don't think we're good enough?" D-Monitamon-1 asked.

"What?" Frodo blinked. "No, nothing like that. It's just, it's a dark road and, I was told that those who travel with me would be in constant danger."

"It's okay," D-Monitamon-3 sighed. "We know about danger. And we want to help people who are in trouble like you obviously are, just like our King would tell us to. But if you don't think we can handle it… well, we're not elite Monitamon yet. And we do need to find the others."

"But we're just as lost as you are in these rocks at the moment," pointed out D-Monitamon-1. "Can you at least let us come with you until this Gollum guy gets us out of this place. Then, if you still don't want us around, we can just go our separate ways from there, maybe."

"Please," D-Monitamon-2 clasped his hands together, and the other two mimicked his actions, images of large, tearful looking eyes appearing on their screens. Frodo, Sam and Gollum alike all stared at them in bemusement for a moment. But then, Frodo eventually caved.

"Alright then," he nodded. "You can come with us for a bit. But I won't have you getting hurt on my account. That was the reason I decided to undertake this journey alone in the first place. As soon as we're out of the rocks, then you can't come with us anymore, okay?"

"Alright then," D-Monitamon-1 nodded. "We can do that."

"You're like our old friend Taiki," D-Monitamon-2 placed a smiley face on his screen. "He couldn't turn his back on people either. That's why we try and follow his example all the time."

Sam chuckled. "He sounds like a good man, this Taiki."

"He was still a child when we last saw him five years ago," D-Monitamon-2 continued. "Who knows how he is now? Anyway, shall we go? Sooner we get out of this rockpile the better."

Frodo nodded. "Lead the way then, Gollum."

To his credit, Gollum hadn't attempted anything against them yet, and he nodded. "This way," he waved, and he leapt down from the rocks, and with practiced agility he bounded down the canyon on all fours at high speed. As Frodo quickly set off in pursuit with Sam right behind him, he noted that he wouldn't have a hope of moving in the way Gollum did. Gandalf had told him once that he had once been a Hobbit. Had the Ring's influence over him really caused him to be like this?

The thought made his stomach clench again, and he hurried onwards, trying to keep Gollum in sight.

The Monitamon, no longer having to hide, took to the cliff-sides once again, bounding along in their series of swift mini-jumps from outcropping to outcropping, keeping Gollum in view as they moved but staying out of reach. The Hobbits watched their movements with fascination, but Gollum ignored them, focusing ahead. Every now and then he would stop and allow the Hobbits to catch up, before setting off again quickly.

And thought the Hobbits were too far back to hear anything, the Monitamon could distinctly hear the gangly creature muttering to himself. And not just random things – he appeared to be having a conversation with himself.

"We must hurry. We must get to the Gate like Master says. We can prove to him that we can be good, yes."

"To the Gate, precious? We can't go there. They is making us go back towards Him. We won't. They will catch us again and then He will take it back and we will never have it. And he will kill us this time precious, after he has finished with the torturing."

"But the Master says that he wants to go there, so we must take him there."

"No! Have you forgotten what it was like there? Thousands of orcses. They will surely catch us again. And this time we will not escape. Ashes trying to chokes us, lava bursting from the ground, no waters filled with fish, and Him – always there, always staring out at us, precious."

"But we promised. We swore on the precious. We must serve the master of the precious."

"And when He gets it back? What then?"

"Hey, don't go too far ahead, you!" Sam shouted after him, breaking his external monologue. "Make sure that we can see you, you hear."

Gollum turned back and waved an arm, acting as if nothing had happened. "This way, Hobbits. Still a long way to the edge of this place. Follow me quickly."

The Monitamon were all greatly unsettled but what they had heard – both the description of the place that they were heading towards and the fact that this Gollum seemed to be literally divided in some description. But they decided not to mention it at the moment. They would have to see where this led first. If they were forced to part company with this group when they reached the edge of Emyn Muil then they might bring it up, but until then, they would wait.

After all, how bad could this really be?

Right?

* * *

Some distance ahead of the group of six making their way through the boulder-strewn labyrinth was another group of small beings who were currently feeling very sorry for themselves indeed. The stagnant pools and lumps of fetid-looking ground stretched out in all directions around the group of three, seeming to carry on for miles and miles, but none of them were even remotely thinking of trying to reach the edge at this point.

They were still too scared. None of them had ever been known for their bravery after all.

Eventually though one of them, the small green helmeted turtle that was named ChibiKamemon, decided to eventually pluck up the courage to try and move from the spot where they had been frozen since the previous day. The three of them, literally, had refused to move through all that time, terrified of something horrible happening if they moved more than an inch at a time.

But eventually, ChibiKamemon remembered his old desire to become stronger to protect his friends.

Back when he had lived on the back of KingWhamon from the Island Zone, he had always been thinking of himself as small and weak, which was true. He could never have hoped to win a fight against the troops of the Bagra Army as Shoutmon and most of the others could have, but he had long since wished that he could get stronger so that he _could_ protect his friends.

When he had first met Shoutmon, he had asked what would help to make him stronger. And Shoutmon had given him three requirements, stating that anybody could be strong as long as they had those three things.

Courage.

Well, ChibiKamemon certainly hadn't been showing any courage since they had woken up in this horrible eerie place.

Guts.

Some people might think that this was the same as courage, but there was a slight difference. Courage meant being brave in a dangerous situation. Guts was what was needed to actually _use_ that bravery to accomplish something.

And finally, Friends.

Well, he had that one at the moment, but what Shoutmon meant would be friends who would stand beside you through that dangerous situation – never try anything alone is what he'd meant to say. And his current two companions – the drum Dondokomon and the rabbit-like Lunamon, were showing no more bravery than him, which was to say, none.

ChibiKamemon decided to try and lead by example. He had been in dangerous situations before – he had been DigiXrosed with someone else to help them fight in a battle on three separate occasions. He could do this. He could do this.

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

Right?

Dondokomon and Lunamon watched him fearfully as he inched away from the sheltered spot they had been cowering in and towards the edge of the water of the giant marshland that they had woken up in. The turtle swallowed nervously, desperately replaying Shoutmon's words in his head in the hopes that would give him the courage and guts to do something useful.

But it wasn't the water that was scaring them all. It was what was in it.

As ChibiKamemon inched closer, he saw once again what had made them shrink away. Moving slowly into view was the bloated corpses that were lying in the water, staring upwards towards the sky, albeit with their eyes closed. They looked like humans, but they were taller than Taiki and the others had been, meaning that these were grown-ups – adults.

ChibiKamemon felt himself trembling as he inched up to the water's edge and stared down at the horrible visages. He wasn't sure what it was about them that was scaring him so badly. Perhaps it was the fact that the concept of a dead body was not something he was used to – when a Digimon died its body vaporised into data which dispersed throughout the Digital World. They didn't leave anything behind like these humans did.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had no idea what it was that had caused these people to die. He could see numerous wounds in some of them, as if they had been cut or stabbed with some kind of blade. Who was to say that the owner of those blades was still out there somewhere?

Or maybe it was just because they looked so completely repulsive and eerie.

They were deathly still. Not even ripples disturbed the water between them and the surface, as if the water was congealing around them or something. They never moved an inch – just floating there, all with faces upwards.

And beside each one were those strange flames – the ones that ChibiKamemon had attempted to put out earlier, only for something to cause it to pop back into existence once he had succeeded.

"Don't get too close, ChibiKamemon," Lunamon shuddered from where she was crouched, her small hands pressed to her face as if she was unsure whether she wanted to cover her mouth or her eyes.

"Is it still there?" Dondokomon added with a whimper.

"Yeah," ChibiKamemon called back, stepping backwards a little. "They're still here. All of them."

"You sure they're dead?" asked Lunamon.

"Um," ChibiKamemon muttered. "Yes, I'm pretty sure they are."

Lunamon shivered. "Why are they here? Who killed them? Can somebody please tell me where we are, how we got here and what's going on?" she sniffled, feeling frightened tears crawling out of her eyes. "I want to go home."

"I'm sure that someone will come and get us," Dondokomon said confidently. "When King Shoutmon realises that we're missing, he'll come and find us."

"What makes you think something hasn't happened to him though?" Lunamon sniffed. "Last thing that happened that I remember was the Code Crown acting funny. It had those light beams connected to all of us. What if they were all zapped to different places? What if… what if we're the only ones left?"

"Can't be," Dondokomon protested, though he sounded nervous. "I mean… nothing can kill Shoutmon right?... Right?"

"We've gotta have courage," ChibiKamemon felt his fist clenching. "We're all alone now. There's nobody else around here for miles, so we've got to have courage. We've got to have guts too. And we're friends. We're all that the others have got now. We… we have to look after one another now."

He took his face from the hideous bloating dead face in the water in front of him, and said, "I mean, we're members of Xros Heart too right? We can do this if we stand together and stay strong, can't we?"

"I'm not really a member of Xros Heart," pointed out Lunamon. "I was just visiting the castle for the feast."

"Yeah, but you're still one of us," ChibiKamemon said forcefully. "We can do this, right? We have to do this because there's nobody else to do it for us."

"But what about the bodies?" Dondokomon shivered.

"They're dead," ChibiKamemon suppressed another shudder. "They can't do anything – they're just floating there. They can't hurt us," he turned back to look at the nearest body.

He immediately yelled and jumped backwards, his heart pounding as he collapsed onto his backside, causing Lunamon and Dondokomon to shriek in turn. ChibiKamemon stared at the body in horror. For a moment, he could have sworn that its eyes had been open and staring at him, white and glassy and lifeless. But now its eyes were shut again. If they had ever been open at all.

ChibiKamemon swallowed and said. "We have to be brave. We have to be strong. We have to… we have to find a way of surviving on our own and getting out of here. Courage, guts and friends. We have to have those if we're going to get out of here."

Dondokomon and Lunamon still looked nervous, but a little more grim-faced, though neither was showing signs of budging just yet. ChibiKamemon threw another glance at the body.

It had to have been a trick, right?

* * *

Hehe. Hope you liked that. Gollum has always been one of my favourite characters from the movies, but he is difficult to get right. There are many things which I wanted to put in which I just couldn't imagine coming out of Gollum's mouth, and I can only hope that I got him to at least sound right. He's just as important a character in this story as he was in the films, and I hope that you enjoy his story as well as everybody else's.

Right then. I'm going to spend a couple of days focusing on this next assignment and then I'll have to attend my uncle's wedding this coming Saturday, but I shall endeavour to write up the next chapter of QOTG as quickly as I can, for I know a lot of you have been waiting for the action to finally start. BBFN.

* * *

Next time…

Flying out of the Shire, Sparrowmon makes more rapid progress than anyone else, flying freely over Eriador in search of her comrades. But as the landscape unfolds below her and she becomes increasingly worried, she spots something which both shocks and angers her. Time to plunge into action.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 16 : Saved by a Sparrow**


	16. Saved by a Sparrow

Hiya everybody. I'm quite surprised that I managed to write this chapter so quickly, because after I put up my last chapter of QOTG, I suddenly got very ill, as in lying in bed pitying myself for hours on end kind of ill. Lasted for the better half of a day, though I am pleased to say that I have shrugged it off and am now completely fine. So, here I am with the next update and adding in the contribution of yet another Digimon character and its early interactions with Middle Earth. I hope you like what you read.

I should also point out, that the first aspect that I am using from Lord of the Rings, War in the North comes into play here. I've never played the game myself, but I will be using several characters that feature in it in this story, though I won't be using the storyline itself, for the most part. Most of those characters will be villains, but not in this case.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 16:- Saved by a Sparrow**

* * *

There were many things that the Hobbits of the Shire were fond of, but the general consensus among them was that they liked things such as delectable foods, strong ales and, most specifically of all, a good quiet life out on the pastures minding their own business. Unless they'd downed of a few of the ales first – then things would quickly get quite jolly. But for the most part, it was the peace that really appealed to them.

And they had every reason to be peaceful. After all, there hadn't been any attacks on the Shire in many years, nor any large and dangerous creatures that could threaten their safety. Indeed, the last attack had been back before any Hobbit alive now had even existed, when a Goblin Lord named Golfimbul, chieftain of the Orcs of Mount Gram in the Misty Mountains, which had managed to slip past the Rangers who dominated most of Eriador thanks to numerous other Goblin invasions going on at the time.

But the Goblins had found the peaceful Hobbits to be more than they bargained for, and they had been routed by a band of Halflings led by none other than the Great Uncle of Bilbo Baggins himself – known as Bullroarer Took, named as such for being the largest ever known Hobbit and his fierce attitude in the Battle of the Greenfields that day. Bullroarer had hit Golfimbul in the head so hard with his club that his head had it had been knocked clean off his shoulders, sailed over one-hundred yards and fallen down a rabbit hole, thus inventing the game of golf at the same time.

But after that, the Hobbits had been living in peace with nothing untoward happening within their boarders until the arrival of the Black Riders a few months ago, though only a small number of Hobbits had seen those chilling abominations. There had been no more goblins, no trolls, no giant spiders, no dragons, no nothing. It was a virtual paradise in the eyes of all the Hobbits and to be perfectly honest, they were quite right to think that.

Yesterday though had caused a clamour amongst a large number of the populace, due to the presence of a strange creature which had apparently showed up yesterday. An aerial bird-like being covered with yellow armour across its torso and oddly stiff wings, which shot over a portion of the country-side at incredible speed, making the air ripple around it as it almost sliced its way through the air.

But the creature, known as Sparrowmon, let the Hobbits be. After her initial introduction to them where she had been poked in the face with a stick courtesy of a young Hobbit, Sparrowmon had decided to stay out of these people's way. They seemed harmless enough, but before she decided to leave she flew around a portion of the area to view them, wondering if she could work out what was going on.

She had already travelled many miles since she had woken here and she had still not found a single of these beings who was tall enough to be considered average height for a human adult. Not even close. They were all at least a couple of feet out.

Admittedly, Sparrowmon was hardly an expert in the human world or human race, but Shoutmon – who had been in the Human World for over a day – had told her that most of them grown-ups were quite a bit taller than the humans she was familiar. Not as tall as people like Mervamon or Beelzemon, but definitely taller than any of the Generals.

There was none of that here.

But these creatures looked so much _like_ humans that it left Sparrowmon confused.

Every time she had settled lower to hover over a certain area and watch what was going on, they would either run from her or get out their pitchforks and wave them ineffectually again. She had attempted to speak to them a couple of times, asking where she was and what they were, but those that had actually answered her had all claimed they were 'Hobbits' and that they were in 'the Shire,' wherever that was. When she'd asked where the Shire was, they had all said, 'Here,' which was extremely unhelpful.

Sparrowmon had had one conversation that last longer than thirty seconds with a young girl who's face looked like she was in the early stages of adulthood but was again not very tall, in which she had tried to explain the concept of the Digital World and ask if this was some part of it, and then when she had drawn up nothing but a blank face she had attempted to talk about the Human World, only to be met with an equally blank face.

Eventually, she just gave up and moved on, thanking the 'Hobbit' for her time and then flying away. Clearly talking to these people was not going to get her any answers that she needed, like where her friends were and if she was even in the same world anymore. Though she was beginning to think that the answer to that second question was a definite no. This could not be the Digital World, and she highly doubted this was the Human World.

So, where was she?

* * *

Since asking the Hobbits had proven ineffective, Sparrowmon had decided not to bother plaguing and scaring them any longer. She would go further afield and in search of her friends. They were most important right now, and surely _one_ of them must have a clue what was going on. Wisemon if none of the others.

Whatever the case, she guessed the Code Crown had had something to do with it.

So after that, she had risen high into the sky, so far up that she would most likely be nothing more than a speck from the ground to all but the most sharp-eyed of creatures. But Sparrowmon was extremely sharp-eyed herself – she had to be considering her combat style – and so she had started scanning the ground for any signs of someone or something which might be better to ask and, hopefully, her friends.

She had not travelled in a straight line, hoping that her friends would at least be somewhere close to where she had landed, and ended up criss-crossing the Shire place many, many times in search of any signs.

She had found nothing. Just more Hobbits and their strange houses and the animals which they looked after. She had attempted to communicate with some of those too, but evidently the creatures the hobbits called 'pigs' and 'cows' were not going to be giving her an answer in any fashion.

After crossing the Shire several times with her blazing speed and not seeing so much as a hair of the other Digimon, Sparrowmon had decided to widen her search. She was extremely fast on the wing and could break the sound barrier if she so desired, and so she had headed west at high velocity, wondering what she might find. But after a short while, she had found herself staring out towards the ocean.

She doubted that she would find her friends out there, but hoped that they had not had the misfortune to land in that when they had been dumped here. Assuming that they had been dumped here like she had at all. So she doubled back on herself and started to head east instead.

She was beginning to get increasingly irritated as the day went on. There seemed to be more open plains and forests here than there were in the Digital World, and while she couldn't deny that the view down below her was exceptional and beautiful, she couldn't really bring herself to appreciate it just yet. Surely her friends must be somewhere nearby.

But where?

Where were they?

Sparrowmon had eventually spotted something which made her pause and squint downwards, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was hard to make out, but she was hovering by the edge of the dark forest on the eastern border of the place where all those Hobbits lived and she could swear that she had seen one of the trees down below moving.

And there it was again, right at the edge of the wood. A moving pillar of bark, except not a pillar at all but a tall humanoid body. Not as tall as the trees themselves but taller than some of the taller humanoid members of Xros Heart. It appeared to be entirely made of wood, like a Cherrymon, but also not like a Cherrymon because it was walking on two thick legs and had two very thick arms swinging lazily by its side. And it certainly didn't have a green moustache, though it did appear to have leaves growing out of its back.

A walking tree.

Sparrowmon decided that was better than nothing and decided to move down to try and ask it some questions, coming down steadily so as not to startle whatever it was. But she was to be frustrated again, because before she could reach the walking tree it had traipsed back into forest and was quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Sparrowmon couldn't see it at all by the time she reached the place it had been.

"Oh come on," she muttered to herself, peering through the dark treeline. "How hard is it to actually find someone to help you in this place? Hello?" She called out. "Can anybody hear me? I have some questions that I'd really, _really_ like some answers to. Can you help me?"

She was met with nothing but silence, which caused her to pout in annoyance, an expression which didn't look quite right on her rounded face. Sparrowmon was normally quite cheerful but this was taking the cake. She was sure that if she were still in the Digital World she would have been able to find at least fifty Digimon who would help her by this point, if not more.

This just added to her belief that she was not actually _in_ the Digital World – a terrifying thought indeed.

Sparrowmon briefly debated delving into the forest and trying to find the moving tree but quickly decided against it. The tree-trunks were packed quite closely together like a barrier or something, which would limit her ability to fly properly. And her lack of legs made attempting to walk completely out of the question.

Plus, the trees were quite foreboding anyway and gave her the creeps. She had no desire to go in there. No way. She was much more suited to the open skies, where she could actually fly.

So, annoyed and slightly dejected, Sparrowmon lifted off into the air again and zoomed away at high-speed, once again searching for any sign of her friends or anybody who would actually be able to talk to her.

This continued for some time, so much so that night was beginning to set in and she still had no hints about her friends at all. But then she hit upon something which made her beam in joy – it was a village. An actual village with high wooden walls and filled to the brim with large structures which could only be houses. And, to her relief, she finally found one other thing she was looking for – she found humans.

Lots of humans. The streets were packed with them, trading goods like various vegetables and laughing gregariously with one another if they were men, and busying themselves with other various activities if they were women. There were lots of children too, and Sparrowmon could tell that these weren't like those Hobbit creatures – they wore shoes and were all actually young looking.

Finally. This had to mean that she was in the Human World after all. What a relief. Maybe Nene and the others would live somewhere nearby.

But then she paused for thought as she took in the village from high up. She might not have seen much of the human world but the bit she had seen was nothing like this. Most of the buildings there had been much larger, and mostly made out of concrete or bricks. Sparrowmon certainly couldn't recall any structures made of wood and loose stones as these ones were.

The people looked different too – they were more rugged and less clean than what she remembered from the Human World. But she brushed that aside again for now. This wasn't her world. She had no way of knowing how all of it would work. She didn't know everything that went on in the Digital World after all so who was she to judge.

She lowered herself down towards the village, spotting a large sign before the main gate which read, 'Welcome to Bree." She swooped low over the wall and down into the streets, startling everyone who happened to be nearby and announced, "Hello everyone. Could you help me out please? I'm kinda lost and…"

She didn't get much further than that before there was a scream from a heavily built man who threw what appeared to be a large pumpkin at her. Sparrowmon blanched, but acted immediately, summoning her Zanahoria blasters out of thin air and letting off a pair of Random Laser blasts which impacted with the flying pumpkin and obliterated it.

On later reflection, it might have been better to dodge it because the moment this happened everybody in front of Sparrowmon scattered, screaming and flailing their arms and yelling things like, 'Black Magic!' and 'Creature of Darkness' and even 'Servant of the Dark Lord!'" There was also a lot of 'Run! Run for your lives!' thrown in as well, as everyone dashed at full-tilt further into the city and into the houses on either side, slamming the doors shut behind them in the general panic.

"Wait! Wait!" Sparrowmon cried, stowing her blasters away again. "What are you doing? I just want to ask you a few questions, like… like… ugh!" she added that last bit with a cry of frustration as she winged her way over to the fleeing villagers to try and get in front of them.

"Hello?" she waved her arms frantically. "I just want to… will you stop running away from me!?" she yelled loudly, as the villagers did the exact opposite and turned to dash away from her as fast as their legs could carry them, older humans seizing the younger ones in a bid to drag them to safety. Sparrowmon spotted several Hobbits among the throng, doing exactly the same thing. Someone flung an apple at her, but Sparrowmon sighed and caught it deftly in one hand before popping the whole thing in her mouth and chewing it all at once.

It seemed there was no reasoning with these people. She continued flying through the village, trying to find somebody to speak to rationally but word of her arrival already seemed to have preceded her and most of the streets were empty before she got there.

She folded her arms and pouted again. "Seriously, what is wrong with these people?" she grumbled to herself. "Do I have a face that says that I'm some sort of violent killing machine? I don't think so. So why is everybody scared of me?"

She sighed again, putting it down to some kind of fear of the unknown. Clearly these people had never encountered one of her kind before. But that didn't explain why they were claiming that she was a servant of darkness.

"Right," she muttered. "Time for extreme measures." Her gaze fixed upon a middle-aged Man who noticed her looking at him and turned to flee. "Sorry," she added, more to herself than him, before she shot forwards with a burst of the engines on her wings and caught up with him easily, seizing him by the back of his vest in her gloved hands and plucking him off the ground, kicking and wailing the whole way.

"Help! Somebody help!" he was screaming. "It's got me! Somebody do something!"

Sparrowmon was beginning to get very ticked off by this point, as she deposited the human on the roof of one of the taller buildings and swung round to face him, causing the Human to lift his arms in an attempt to shield his face.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged. "I'll do anything. Just let me live!"

"Will you _please_ shut up," Sparrowmon said, forcing herself not to get too frustrated. "I do not want to kill or hurt you. If I did, you would be dead already. If I wanted to attack this village these wooden walls would not keep me out, I can assure you."

The man blinked and lowered his arms suspiciously, bemused by her high but sweet voice. "Then…" he murmured. "You're _not_ a servant of darkness?"

"Why does everybody think that?" Sparrowmon griped. "Do I really look that evil to you people. There is no chance that I would go around serving anybody dark." _Again,_ she added in her head, remembering her time where she had served DarkKnightmon out of loyalty to Nene. She then added proudly, "I am a member of Xros Heart, and we don't help evil. We fight it. Now, if you'd like to stop trembling, can you _please_ just let me ask you some questions? Then I'll take you down and be on my way, alright?"

The human still looked wary but he nodded mutely as Sparrowmon began to grill him for information about the world she was in and most importantly whether there had been any sightings of strange creatures besides herself.

She didn't learn what she would have wanted to from the man, but she at least learned something. Apparently they call the land which she was now in Middle Earth, which worried Sparrowmon. Nene had once told her that they called their planet Earth, but there had never been any 'Middle' in the name as far as she could remember. Could that mean she really wasn't in the Human World that she knew?

And the man was not very helpful in regards to her other question either. He had said, "We're seeing many strange folks around here at the moment. There's talk of evil forces gathering and preparing to attack Eriador. That's why everybody was so scared of you. You look like you could be some strange and small new breed of dragon or something."

"I've met dragons," Sparrowmon shook her head. "Trust me, I'm not one of them."

"You've met dragons?" the man gasped. "And you're still alive?"

"Some of my best friends are dragons," Sparrowmon said nonchalantly.

"So you _are_ a servant of darkness!" the man cried.

"No," Sparrowmon sighed. "I've met evil dragons before too, but I don't make friends with them. Only the good ones. Anyway, what I meant by seeing anyone strange was other obscure creatures like myself. You know, like giant blue birds made of metal or giant women with a snake for an arm. That sort of thing."

It was clear right from the off that the man had gotten totally lost with this question, so Sparrowmon merely sighed, thanked him and lowered him back to the ground. She doubted she was going to get much help here either, especially if she had to snatch everybody up onto a roof if she wanted to ask them a question. They were more helpful than those Hobbits had been, but not by very much.

No, she was going to have to try further afield, now more convinced than ever that this was not the Human World she knew.

* * *

She spent the night on a large abandoned looking tower which was falling into ruins and being reclaimed by the wild slowly but steadily. She settled herself down onto one of the highest outcroppings of remaining stone and dozed off, depressed at her lack of good findings after almost an entire day on the wing. Maybe tomorrow she would attempt to search further afield in larger loops than before. There had to be something. She couldn't be the only Digimon in this world, could she?

Because if she was…

The thought was not a pleasant one.

Little did she know that she had been unconsciously following the path taken by the four Hobbits which had been a member of the Fellowship of Ring, passing from the Shire to Bree and now she was resting on Weathertop, just above the spot where Frodo had been stabbed by the leader of the Ringwraiths. That was a story that Sparrowmon had not found herself a part of. At least not yet.

* * *

Morning came around as she set off again, this time flying north. She tried to blot out her annoyance at her so far lack of success, attempting to focus entirely on the job at hand. She _would_ get some answers today in one way or another. Hopefully. Maybe. No, she _would._ _She would._

She flew faster even than yesterday, skimming high through the sky and over the rolling hills and downs that stretched out below her. She crossed over a large expanse of fog, and miles and miles of marshland, and several other abandoned structures, albeit not quite as impressive looking ones as the one she had spent the night on.

But were there any signs of her friends?

Absolutely none.

At one point she did think she saw something down below, like a human in a cloak passing through the undergrowth, but when she flew down for a closer look she couldn't see anything. She decided that it must be a trick of the light, for it had resembled some kind of moving shadow beneath her, so she merely passed on.

Her stomach was beginning to growl a little now. She hadn't had anything to eat yesterday except a single apple. So now she was searching for something substantial to consume at the same time too.

It was around this point where she came upon the city.

She slowed down to get a better look as she drew closer to it. It was an enormous place, far bigger than that wooden village she had encountered before, and everything looked to be made of stone with solid fortifications. It reminded her of the castle back home, except it was far larger. And it was also in a near-complete state of disrepair.

Just like the watchtowers she had already encountered it looked like nobody had attempted to make repairs or even live in this place for at least one thousand years. It was eerie and Sparrowmon had to suppress a shudder. This place looked like it had once been a mighty fortress, but now it just looked sad. The walls and towers that dotted the city were crumbling and looked to be on the very of collapse in several place, there was a lot of foliage entangling itself around the stone structures. Most of the other buildings looked slightly better, but not by much.

"What is with this place?" she muttered. "Why are half the things around here in ruins?"

Of course nobody answered her, so she merely rolled her eyes and prepared to move on, but something stopped her. Blinking, she looked back down. She had though she had seen a flash of movement down there amongst the ruins. Of course, it hadn't been the first time that she'd seen something like that, but something made her want to check further so she descended downwards.

As she did so she began to pick up more quick movements down in the streets – quick humanoid shaped figures that seemed to shuffling in an odd way from place to place, dashing between the buildings as if afraid of staying out in the open for too long. Sparrowmon frowned in bemusement and moved lower and that was when she began to here the screeching.

That made her pause. It sounded like some kind of animal, high-pitched shrieks that were coming from somewhere down in the city. But Sparrowmon could clearly hear both intense pain and boiling anger in those cries and she felt her heart tighten in her chest. This demanded investigating immediately.

Keeping herself as discreet as possible, Sparrowmon lowered herself down to the height of the roofs and began to flit between the various levels, hiding behind the large towers and zipping across gaps, trying to keep out of sight and find out what was going on, following the sounds of the screeches emanating from before her.

Up ahead, she spotted more movement and pressed herself flat, watching as several strange and quite frankly disgusting looking creatures moved across the tops of one of the walls nearby. Their skin was wrinkled and slimy, their eyes huge and their mouths full of fangs. They were garbed in crude, spiky armour and armed with equally crude, spiky weapons, like curved swords, short spears and makeshift axes or clubs. Sparrowmon didn't have the faintest idea what they were, but she could already tell that they were bad news.

More wary than ever, Sparrowmon moved forwards again, spotting several more of the squat creatures as she traversed along as silently as possible. But then, eventually, she found what she was looking for. And when she saw it, she felt as if her blood had suddenly caught fire, such was her instant rage.

She had reached a large plaza in the middle of the city, which was dotted with many of the bow-legged humanoids. Many of them were laughing sinisterly and watching as many of the others wielded long and cruelly pointed lances, which they were using to thrust and jab at a large, brown-feathered bird standing on a pedestal at in the middle of the square which might have once held a statue. The bird was clearly furious and in pain, but it couldn't escape from its tormentors because it was currently chained down to said pedestal.

Sparrowmon seethed as she took in the huge manacles which had been latched around its scaly feet and anchored to the stone floor to keep it from taking off, and the several chains wrapped around its body, cruelly pinning its wings to its side and _also_ connecting it to the ground. There was little chance of escape for it, but that didn't stop it from trying as it writhed and bucked in the grip of the chains and snapped its large, hooked beak angrily at the creatures that were harassing it.

But they merely kept leaping backwards and laughing at the bird's plight as the chains held it back from pursuing and kept jerking it to a halt before it was able to do anything. It screeched in fury again and snapped at another one, only for two more on either side of it to stab it in the folded wings, eliciting another screech of pain.

Sparrowmon felt her hands gripping the edge of the roof so hard it was a wonder the weakened stone didn't break, her teeth gritted and her eyes blazing. This was no way to treat _any _other living creature, and yet these beings who reminded her a little of unmasked, and extremely ugly, evil Troopmon but were clearly not Digimon, seemed to think that this was funny. They were taking delight out of torturing this poor creature and in that moment, Sparrowmon knew what she was going to do.

But before she did it, she heard one of the creatures say in a hissing but guttural voice, "How does it feel, big birdie, to be grounded and poked by measly earth-crawlers such as we? Does it feel bad? I bet it does. Gotta a big blow to your pride, huh?"

The others laughed – a noise which sounded like something like a blender trying to grind up a block of wood.

The large bird turned its large, golden eyes on the speaker and glared at him ferociously. Sparrowmon could tell right away that under most circumstances, this would not be someone that these creatures would want to mess with. How they had managed to get hold of it in this manner at all she didn't know.

She wasn't as surprised as some others might have been when the bird spoke in a voice that was deeper than its former screeching had suggested but not altogether _that_ deep. "Do you expect me to beg for mercy, goblin filth?" he said with a snap of his bill. "I may have been careless enough to allow myself to be caught in this way, but I shall not allow you to gain any more satisfaction from my capture. You will not break me, no matter how hard you try. You may kill me, but you will never break my pride as an Eagle of the North."

"Oh, did you hear that, boys?" cackled the goblin who had spoken before. "He thinks that we can't break him. I guess that we'll have to see about that for ourselves. You Eagles have plagued our kind for generations, swooping down on us as we come up from our caves to pluck us from the ground and throw us to our doom. I would say that this was a little payback, wouldn't you?"

There was raucous cheering from the rest of the goblins, but the Eagle merely lifted its head, managing to look aloof even though it was chained to the ground. "What else do you expect from us, goblin scum? Need I remind you that _your_ kind would gladly burn our eyries and steal our eggs if you could, and you have tried in the past. You do not even belong in this Middle Earth, foul creations of Morgoth. You are a threat to all the Free Peoples, and while we Eagles might not associate with the other speech-capable races, we will hardly stand by and allow you to swarm over them when we can prevent you from leaving your mountains."

"It's only a matter of time though now," the goblin cackled, raising its vicious-looking and dirty lance once more to jab it at the Eagle's face, causing the bird to lurch backwards just in time to avoid having an eye put out. "Our kind are mustering once again now, Eagle. And once we are done raiding the lowlands and destroying those Free Peoples we will be coming for you next. And there will be nothing you can do to stop us anymore. I hope that that is refreshing deathbed news for you." He leered and jabbed at him again.

But the Eagle saw the attack coming this time and jerked his head, latching his bill around the lance at the base of the hooked blade at the tip and jerking backwards. The goblin, alarmed, didn't let go of the weapon in time and was jerked forwards with a stumble right into the Eagle's range. It desperately tried to backpedal but an enormous foot with three vicious talons descended on it and crushed it instantly.

The Eagle looked smug. "I may be bound, Goblin, but I am still far from helpless," he said to the corpse beneath his foot.

The other Goblins howled in rage and pressed in around him, redoubling their former efforts to torture the bird with their weapons. The Eagle jerked and snapped as before but it could not fight them off and they stabbed at its belly and wings, keeping out of range of his beak and talons.

It was at this point that Sparrowmon decided that she had had enough. Even if it hadn't been clear before she knew who was the good guy in this situation and who were the bad guys. And like hell she was going to leave this poor Eagle to suffer like this. She summoned her blasters out of thin air once again and propelled herself off the roof, hovering over the plaza in plain sight.

The Eagle spotted her almost instantly and looked up, golden eyes widening before it received a jab in the stomach and shrieked in pain. The goblins dotted around the plaza were quickly to notice her too and a hush fell over the place almost immediately.

"Hey, you guys!" Sparrowmon declared, catching the attention of any goblin who had not yet noticed her. "Drop the lances, or you're going to find yourselves even deeper in my bad books than you already are."

There was a hissing and a chattering from the multitude of goblins before once sneered and said, "It's just a little runt of a bird. Archers, deal with it!"

Sparrowmon's eyes tilted downwards to see several goblins string barbed arrows to bows that looked like they might snap at any moment, but held firm. "Alright," she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The goblins released their arrows, only for them to shoot through empty air as Sparrowmon was instantly at the other end of the plaza and whooshed around almost on a dime, diving past the buildings and screaming, **"RANDOM LASER!"** at the top of her voice. Waving her arms wildly, she unleashed a barrage of blue lasers out of her guns and the green blaster at the nape of her neck, which almost rained down energy blasts on the goblins below.

The goblins were taken completely off-guard by this assault and half of them were obliterated almost instantly as they were bombarded from above. Sparrowmon didn't even pause before she spun around low to the ground and ploughed her body straight into the first goblin with a lance and then into all the others in less than a second flat, piling them up on her wings before twisting violently to send them flying in all directions.

A couple of other goblins attempted to fire on her again, but this time Sparrowmon didn't even attempt to dodge the shots, she just ploughed straight through them, barrel-rolling in the air at least five times in half a second and deflecting the arrows on her hardened armour. She shot low over the heads of the goblins with enough speed to knock them over with her slipstream alone, completely a full one-eighty turn inches before she hit a wall and firing off another burst of lasers into the goblins and finishing them up on the spot.

The Eagle stared, wide-eyed, as Sparrowmon totally destroyed his offenders in less than ten seconds flat. There had been few times in his life where he had been rendered speechless, but this would probably be one of them. He could only think, _What the…_

Sparrowmon turned to face him and was about to ask if he was alright, but a screech went up from nearby and she span around to see another pair of goblins on the roof of another building, waving their swords.

"Alarm!" one cried, turning around and dashing out of sight. "Sound the alarm! We're under attack! Ready the war machines!"

Sparrowmon cursed and spurted after them, slamming her wing into the first before he had a chance to lift his weapon and vaporising the one doing the yelling with a well-aimed burst from her lasers. But the damage had already been done. She could hear drums going off somewhere within the city, and could see what looked like hundreds more goblins pouring out of the shadows of the ruined city and onto higher ground, brandishing a multitude of mean-looking weaponry, including several things that Sparrowmon couldn't be able to guess at naming.

But Sparrowmon didn't have the time to go dealing with them, she needed to lookout for the safety of the captive bird. So she quickly spun around and whooshed back into the near-deserted plaza and down towards the eagle.

"Are you alright?" she asked, hovering in front of him.

"Who… what… who are you?" the Eagle stared at her. "I have never seen anything like you before, nor have I seen anything like what you just did."

"It doesn't matter," Sparrowmon said. "I'll explain later. For now, let's just say that I'm a friend and I need to help you to get out of here. Hold very still. I'm going to break your chains."

"Break my chains?" the Eagle blustered. "How are you…"

"I said, hold still. **WING EDGE!"** she added, and to the Eagle's amazement, the projections at the tips of her wings shone and extended outwards into wickedly sharp blades. Sparrowmon shot forwards faster than any creature could blink and slammed the thick chains that were pinning the eagle's wings, missing the Eagle itself by mere millimetres and slicing through the chain as if it was made of paper. She swung around the eagle and repeated the action on its other side, ending up back where she started a second after she had begun to move.

As the chains fell away, Sparrowmon raised her blasters to deal with the manacles on his feet, but at that moment there was a tremendous roar from behind the Eagle and the cackling of more goblins. Sparrowmon raised herself to look and saw several more goblins pouring through a gap in the buildings, before something much larger but just as ugly, slammed its way through after them, sending chunks of stone flying as it widened the gap by several feet.

Sparrowmon blanched at the ugly thing. It was not quite as big in terms of height as Greymon, but it was definitely bulkier, covered in hardened skin with a thick and brutish face and long arms on comparatively squat legs.

"What the…" Sparrowmon gasped as it looked at her dully and roared.

"Troll!" yelled the Eagle, answering the Digimon's not-fully-spoken question. "They brought a Mountain Troll with them!"

"Get it! Get it!" roared the goblins as they charged forwards. "Get them both!" The troll roared stupidly and seized what seemed to be a large boulder in its thick hands and hurled it straight at the Eagle's unprotected back. Sparrowmon reacted in the blink of an eye and soared over the Eagle to blast the rock into dust and send the pieces scattering in all directions, bearing down on the approaching goblins and swarming them with laser fire. They were far from difficult for her to deal with, but the troll was probably going to be another matter entirely. It was clearly much tougher.

But Sparrowmon was certainly not put off – she had faced worse, after all. The troll's brutish face seemed to tighten as it beheld its adversary and with a mighty bellow it lurched forwards with a surprising turn of speed and lashed out at Sparrowmon with its heavy arm. But Sparrowmon was far, far faster and shot out of the way, rising into the air and pouring burst of lasers down at its exposed shoulders.

She grimaced at the result. She was clearly doing some damage as the troll let loose a bellow of both pain and rage, but its back was actually the most armoured part of its body. The troll's eyes narrowed as it seized another boulder and flung it upwards with impressive strength, forcing Sparrowmon to roll out of the way. She fired another burst of lasers at its face but it was able to lift a heavy arm and shield itself before it used its other arm to seize an old stone pillar and rip it right out of the ground, swinging it up and over like a club in an attempt to hit her.

"Alright," Sparrowmon murmured as she shot away easily enough. "If that won't work." With a flare of speed she formed the Wing Edge once again and spurted round to shoot past the makeshift club, U-turned and repeated the pass, and then did it again, all in the space of a second. Three clean slashes appeared in the club where she had moved and it split into four pieces in the troll's hand. The troll stared at it dumbly, as if unable to believe its eyes, but Sparrowmon didn't let up even for an instant.

With a fourth pass she cut a gouge in the trolls comparatively softer front, and the troll roared and attempted to swat at her, but she had already sung back around him to pass again from the same side and cut into its leg, causing it to stumble. Sparrowmon grimaced again. She was doing damage but the thing was hardy and clearly had plenty of energy left.

So she decided to go for broke and shot straight up into the air faster than the troll could blink, hovering several hundred metres overhead for a moment before throwing herself into such a rapid spiralling fall that she became a spinning blur.

"**CRASH BOOM!"**

The troll, too stupid to realise that this wouldn't work, hurriedly flung another large piece of rock up at her, but Sparrowmon merely cut straight through it with her attack, dicing it to pieces as she fell. Before the troll could even register what had just happened, Sparrowmon crashed straight into him with a flash of yellow. She seemed to split into four identical yellow shapes which decimated even the troll's tough armour before they all swung upwards again joined up again overhead to form the single Sparrowmon once more.

The troll kept upright for another two seconds before it collapsed onto its front, beaten. Sparrowmon couldn't tell if it was dead or not but that didn't really matter at this point. She swung back down and raised her blasters, letting off controlled bursts that busted through the manacles on the Eagle's legs, freeing it completely.

"Are you alright now?" Sparrowmon asked. "Can you fly?"

"I…" the Eagle was still looking relatively stunned. "I believe so. Those foul goblins did not damage my flight muscles as much as they could have, though I may be a little ungainly in the air for a while. But… what are…?"

"I don't think we have the time for that right now," Sparrowmon pointed out. "Shall we get away from here before we're swamped by more of those creatures?"

"I am not sure," the Eagle pulled itself together and shook its feathered head. "The goblins have constructed siege machines on some of the city battlements. That is how they caught me in the first place – I got careless and flew too low and they shot me out of the air. I don't know if I could outfly their projectiles in my current state."

Sparrowmon smirked. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll cover you. Let's both teach these guys a lesson that they deserve, shall we?"

The Eagle stared at her for a moment before he chuckled and said, "I am amazed that you can say that and still somehow sound like a small child. Very well, stranger. Then I too shall cover you. These goblins have been allowed to infest this once-great city for too long. And I must repay them for their… hospitality."

"Good attitude," Sparrowmon nodded with a grin.

There was a clamour as more goblins swarmed into the plaza, chittering like mad rodents of some description. Sparrowmon turned to face them, but the Eagle unfolded its mighty wings and let loose an ear-splitting screech of anger. Sparrowmon flinched and the goblins faltered at the sight of the enormous bird. He was easily as large as MailBirdramon, and his wings might even have been a little wider. Sparrowmon had to admit, at full height and wingspan and with his feathers ruffed out, he made an intimidating sight.

"Allow me," he said. And with a surge of his wings he threw himself off the plaza and landed like a rockslide amongst the goblins. They didn't stand a chance under his lashing beak and furious talons, and those that he didn't spear with either of them were flung aside by his enormous, beating wings. Sparrowmon watched him, in awe of his sheer strength as he snatched a goblin in his beak and flung it so far it disappeared from sight, pinning four others beneath his talons and blowing many others back with the sheer wind from a single powerful flap.

He then swung around and trampled several others in an awkward but unstoppable run to the other side of the plaza, spearing another on his beak and then grabbing another and slamming it into a bloody mess against the ground. A couple of brave or stupid goblins tried to throw themselves at him from the top of a roof, but the Eagle heard them coming and swung one wing upwards to buffet both of them and send them sailing to the side to smack painfully against the wall and slump into heaps nearby.

The Eagle turned to face Sparrowmon and gave her a nod. "I realise that it probably shouldn't," he said. "But that felt extremely satisfying."

"I can imagine," Sparrowmon chuckled. "Now, let's go trash the rest of them, shall we?"

And with that, she shot upwards high above the rooftops again, searching around for any sign of these siege weapons that the Eagle had mentioned before. It didn't take her long to spot them, as there were several goblins around each one and they had, by this point, managed to turn them in the direction of the plaza and were getting ready to shoot. They looked like giant crossbows or ballistae, and they were attempting to load large flaming rocks or giant arrows into them.

"Hm. We'll see about that," Sparrowmon declared, pitching herself around and aiming for the nearest siege machine. The goblins saw her coming and attempted to fire the arrow quickly, letting it off at her with a thick twang. Sparrowmon could easily have dodged but she decided to humour them… slightly. Right before the arrow hit her she twisted and slashed it in half from tip to end with her Wing Edge. The goblins could only gawk before they were blown up by a flurry of Random Lasers.

Sparrowmon swept around past the destruction and the wrecked siege machine, turning on a tight corner and shooting off towards the next one, swooping low over a roof to knock several more goblins flying with her wings and firing a burst of lasers down into a street as she passed to take out several more. Two more of the siege weapons stood side by side and were desperately attempting to turn and face her, but Sparrowmon initiated another Crash Boom, splitting into four and having two of her shapes crash through each of the siege machine at the same time, before joining back up and pouring more laser down at a line of archers that had yet to prepare their arrows.

The yellow-armoured Digimon pulled herself to a halt, glaring down at another batch of goblins close by, which seemed to get the message and made high-pitched squealing noises as they beat a hasty retreat, not wishing to be the next victims of their strange assailant. Sparrowmon briefly wondered if she was doing the right thing by drawing out the attack on these guys. After all, this wasn't her world. Was it her place to do this sort of thing?

But she quickly put that thought aside. If creatures as vile as these were preparing war machines and getting ready to march out across the lands then she had a duty to put a stop to it no matter where she came from. She remembered what the people from Bree had been like when they'd seen her, running and screaming about servants of darkness. And that man she had spoken to had said that there had been lots of talk of a rising evil.

This had to be what he had been talking about. Or at least a part of it.

And as a Digimon of Xros Heart, she was obligated to deal with them before they became a problem.

During her brief thought session, another large war-machine nearby had managed to focus on her and let fly with an enormous flaming rock, letting it loose with great force right in Sparrowmon's direction. Sparrowmon saw it coming and deftly rolled over so the projectile whistled harmlessly past her… or it would have if it hadn't suddenly exploded within two feet of her. Sparrowmon screamed as she was blasted downwards, tossed wing over wing until she landed with a mighty crash in the side of a tall stone citadel, smashing through the wall and disappearing inside, under a pile of rubble.

The goblins let loose loud, screeching cheers at their victory, clashing swords against the stonework around them and jeering at the defeat of their attacker, thrusting arms into the air and baring their fangs. Moments later, a shadow fell over them and they barely had time to look up before the Eagle descended on them furiously, seizing the siege machine in his talons and crushing it into the ramparts, ripping the wreckage loose from its moorings and tossing it aside before sweeping the goblins away with a powerful stroke of his wing.

"What sorcery is this?" he asked, inspecting the crushed siege weapon. "That was no ordinary goblin craft."

Other goblins crowded onto the wall nearby and drew arrows on their bowstrings to fir in the Eagle's direction, but the mighty bird surged back into the air with a stroke of his wings and bore down on them before they could reload, sweeping his talons low through them and bowling them all those he did not seize away. He powered his way back up and curved around to crash his way through a catapult which had been trying to load another rock, and then turned in the direction of the tower where Sparrowmon had disappeared.

He shut his eyes, paying his silent respects to his unknown rescuer.

He was then very surprised when the entire top floor of the building exploded outwards, sending stone chunks flying in all directions and the shape of Sparrowmon soared out of the rubble and smoke, looking a little scuffed but none the worse for wear.

"Okay," she said. "Now I'm mad."

The Eagle was amazed at the creature's durability, but he put that aside for now and said, "Would you do me the honour of joining me in ridding this place of the rest of these vermin?"

"You need to ask?" Sparrowmon asked, flaring her boosters and turning on a dime to rocket around and blast through another group of goblins.

It was fair to say that the two of them owned both the skies and the battle on that day. The goblins did not know which way to turn as they attempted to either flee or make a meagre attempt to fight back. With the last of their war machines quickly destroyed by the Eagle before it could make another attempt to fire, they had little to combat the two aerial fighters at all. Many of them had bows and arrows, but they were hardly accurate at using them and both the flying enemies managed to avoid their shots. It seemed that wherever Sparrowmon wasn't, the Eagle was, as they soared around the abandoned city leaving destruction in their wake.

Several archers who were attempting to shoot at Sparrowmon found that their target was at the other end of the city before they could release their arrows and spun round to try and aim again, only to be confronted by a huge Eagle which crashed into them and knocked them all flying a second later, while Sparrowmon was raining lasers down into the streets to pepper goblin after goblin.

Several other goblins had taken up refuge in the top of a watchtower, pointing their arrows through the slits and taking careful aim at the Eagle before letting fly. The Eagle felt several arrows go through his wing feathers but nothing serious was hit and he quickly soared out of range. Moments later, Sparrowmon lanced towards the tower, having spotted where the arrows were coming from and let off a vicious round of laser fire which practically vaporised the firing chamber and everything in it.

Sparrowmon then blew low through the streets, flying at an incredibly daring speed through the narrow avenues of the city and inches from the ground, twisting round corners on a dime and summoning her Wing Edge blades. The goblins which attempted to flee were already doomed. They barely had time to hear the sound of Sparrowmon's boosters before she was on them, shearing through them with her blades or generally just ploughing them over with the rest of her body. Nothing could move faster enough to avoid her movements.

During this, Sparrowmon suddenly found herself facing another troll, which had an enormous uprooted tree in one hand like some sort of giant club. It filled the street that Sparrowmon had just entered from wall to wall and with no room to move around it Sparrowmon upended herself instantly, flying upside-down back the way she had just come and out of the troll's range as it brought down its huge club and hopelessly missed her. But before Sparrowmon could deal with the troll, the Eagle swooped down from above and crashed into the troll with its full body weight.

Large as the troll was, the Eagle proved to be far too much for it and with a roar it was bowled over and sent sliding backwards with enough force to crack the street beneath it, the Eagle's talons embedded in its front until it crashed heavily into a building at the end of the street. The Eagle didn't let up and viciously assaulted the troll with its beak and claws, and it didn't take long for the troll to succumb to its attack and slump down, defeated.

Sparrowmon shared a nod with the Eagle before they took off again and continued their dual attack.

Eventually though, Sparrowmon drew to a stop when she heard a snarling voice scream, "How dare you! You fools! You have no idea who you are dealing with!"

Sparrowmon looked down and saw a goblin who was more heavily built that the others, brandishing an enormous and thick sword with spikes on one side standing in the street at the entrance to the tallest tower in the middle of the city – the citadel itself. He was surrounded by other burly goblins with giant lances and banners which depicted some sort of giant eye. And all of them were glaring up at her.

"Oh?" Sparrowmon asked them, flying lower. "You're right. I don't. Would you care to enlighten me?"

The goblin chieftain spat contemptuously and lashed out his hand to point an accusing finger at her. "You my gain victory against us today, but you cannot hope to win against our lord and master. We work for the Dark Lord himself, and we run directly under the orders of one of his first and most powerful lieutenants. Once they hear of what happened here, they will find out what did this and they will hunt you down and slaughter you, just as he will slaughter all the free races of this world. You cannot escape him. Nobody can defeat him. You've as good as killed yourself just daring to defy him and attack us."

"I see," Sparrowmon said, blandly. "I was expecting you to say something like that to be honest. And I'll tell you this. I don't know who you're talking about or exactly what's going on, but I can tell you this much. I've run into a fair share of would-be Dark Lords before and I'm still very much alive. What's one more?"

"You cannot hope to match him," the goblin declared.

"Maybe," Sparrowmon replied. "But maybe not. I guess we'll have to see for ourselves, won't we?"

The goblin snarled and hefted his huge sword, hurling it upwards like a spinning buzzsaw. Sparrowmon rolled her eyes and easily avoided the sword with ease, causing it to spin away and out of sight.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave," Sparrowmon smiled down at them.

"Smite it down!" the goblin leader roared, and the other goblins hefted their lances and heaved them up towards Sparrowmon with mighty wrenches. Sparrowmon moved instantaneously and blasted forwards, blowing a hole in the side of the citadel with her lasers and shooting through the gap so the lances only struck through mid-air and clattered harmlessly against the buildings.

And, as Sparrowmon blew her way harmlessly out of the other side of the citadel, the Eagle swooped in from the side, eyes narrowed as it angled itself carefully and slammed into a crumbling sentry tower which stood beside the citadel with amazing force. The tower, which might have collapsed on its own given another couple of decades, had its last moorings shattered by the Eagle's strength and, with a moan of falling rock, it toppled. The goblin leader and his subordinates screeched in fear as the colossal structure tumbled to one side, right at them.

It was the last sound they ever made, for with an almighty crash and a spray of rubble the tower slammed down on top of them in a pile of broken masonry and dust, crashing through the sides of other buildings on its way and bringing down a veritable rockslide upon them. The entire street and everything in it practically disappeared, becoming nothing but rock from wall to wall.

Any goblins that remained now were either deep in hiding or had already managed to flee. Sparrowmon veered around, joining up with her new companion and said, "I thought that you might appreciate landing the final blow."

"And indeed I did," the Eagle replied. "I have repaid my jailers that which they deserve. Nevertheless, were it not for you, I would surely have died down there in that central plaza. And for that, I thank you sincerely."

"You're very welcome," Sparrowmon giggled. "But do you think we can go somewhere else and talk more? I can still smell those guys from here and it's hardly what I would call fragrant."

"Indeed," the Eagle chuckled. "We can. And there are many things that I would ask of you, stranger. I have never seen anything quite like you before."

"I cannot say the same," Sparrowmon replied. "But I definitely have some questions to ask you too. We'll trade."

"It's a deal," the Eagle said, as the two of them turned and flew off together.

* * *

They didn't go too far, only a couple of miles into the foothills nearby, where the ruins they had just fought in were a speck in the distance, before the Eagle settled on the ground with a heavy thump holding his wings up and seemingly trying to grimace around his beak. "I fear I might have sustained a little more damage from those foul creatures than I thought. A few of my flight muscles are sore."

"Can I get you anything for them?" Sparrowmon asked, hovering next to him.

"I merely require some rest," the Eagle replied. "My kind are quite a hardy race. I fear that my greatest injury today was the wound to my pride. How I ever got so careless as to be apprehended by creatures such as they, even with their strange siege machines, is beyond me. I was a little arrogant, I suppose, to fly so low. And that is how they caught me."

"But why were they torturing you like that?" Sparrowmon asked.

The Eagle looked up at her fiercely. "You need to ask a question such as that? They were goblins. They do not need a reason to cause pain to others. It is in their nature. Their evil, twisted nature. I am far from the first unfortunate soul to fall into their clutches and I believe that I will not be the last."

"Well, I'm glad that I decided to fly north this morning," Sparrowmon noted. "Or I might not have been around to help. Anyway, I think that we've gone on long enough before the introductions, so let's start them now. What's your name?"

"My name?" the Eagle asked. "My name is Beleram, son of Edmilion, son of Anoram."

Sparrowmon chuckled. "I just asked for your name, not the names of your ancestors," she said. "Still, it's nice to meet you Beleram. My name is Sparrowmon."

The Eagle, Beleram, blinked. "Sparrow?" he asked. "I was saved by a sparrow?"

"Sparrow_mon_," corrected the Digimon, with a smile. "And I don't know if I ever had parents so I can't list my own ancestors for you."

"I… I see…" Beleram frowned. "Well… Sparrowmon, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. I am in your debt for saving me. I believe it is highly likely that had you not shown up, I would not only be dead, but probably roasted and half-eaten by nightfall."

Sparrowmon felt sick for a moment, but shook herself and said, "Least I could do. So, I heard you say that you were an Eagle of the North or something, right? That's what you told those goblin things anyway."

"Yes," Beleram said, drawing himself up and ruffling his feathers proudly. "I am indeed. I am a servant of Gwaihir the Windlord, King of my kind, the Great Eagles. We are a noble race who live in the Misty Mountains to the east of here. I was tasked by Gwaihir himself to scout around the lands of Arnor to gather news of any evil activity. There has been increasing talk of war in the lowlands for many months now, and mustering of dark forces such as those goblins.

"When I saw the activity back there at the old ruins of Fornost I knew I had to get a closer look, and the rest you know. Soon, I shall have to return to Gwaihir and make my report. Though when they find that I was rescued by someone with the word 'Sparrow' in their name… I believe I may the brunt of some teasing for a while."

Sparrowmon looked affronted. "Why? Would they think that you are weak because I could save you?"

"Not you personally," Beleram chuckled. "But sparrows are miniscule birds compared to we Eagles. No power at all. Though, while you might be called a Sparrow, you most definitely are _not_ a Sparrow. And yet I do not know what you are. There is not much that passes unnoticed by my kind – we roam far and wide and have very sharp eyes. We know of most all the creatures of Middle Earth except those that skulk where we cannot fly. But you… I have certainly never seen anything like you before, nor have I heard descriptions of anything close to you. If I my take my turn to ask a question… what exactly are you?"

"That's an easy one," Sparrowmon grinned. "Pick me," she added, raising a hand.

Beleram frowned in bewilderment.

"Don't get that one?" Sparrowmon asked. "Never mind. To answer your question, I am a Digimon. And I… don't believe that I'm from around here. Have you ever heard of the Digital World before? And I really hope that you have because if you haven't then I am hopelessly lost."

Beleram stared at her for a moment but then shook his head. "No, my lady. I have not heard of such a place myself. Perhaps another of my kind has, but I have not."

"That's what I was afraid of," Sparrowmon sighed. "Also – 'my lady?' I don't think that I've ever been called that before."

"It is the polite thing to do, is it not?"

"Well, can you just call me Sparrowmon? 'My lady' makes me sound like some kind of noble and while I am a part of the Royal Court where I come from we don't think of ourselves like that. Anyway, if this world is not the Digital World, then is it the Human World?"

"Human… World? I have not heard of that place either."

"That was the other thing that I was afraid of," Sparrowmon sighed. "I am really, _really_ lost. How the heck did I end up in a completely different and unrelated universe?"

"Excuse me?" Beleram stared at her uncomprehendingly.

Sparrowmon grimaced and said, "Alright, alright. I'll give you the full explanation. It might sound confusing. No, it _will_ sound confusing because I myself am quite confused by this whole thing. Well, here goes…"

And she launched into a long-winded explanation of what a Digimon was, what the Digital World was, and how she seemed to have somehow found herself here alone and without her numerous friends. It was quite a roundabout explanation, because she had to stop and attempt to explain things to Beleram several times, and often she failed. Clearly the concepts of things like data were quite beyond his ability to understand, so she settled for merely saying, "We're creatures with very special and unique properties that might take several months to explain."

She told him about King Shoutmon and the rest of Xros Heart, and how she guessed that they too had ended up somewhere in this universe but she had no idea where, and that she had been attempting to find them ever since she had woken up yesterday without any success.

Except for his frequent requests for clarification, Beleram remained silent throughout the tale that Sparrowmon fed him, listening intently as Sparrowmon finished with, "And the sooner I find them the better. While I can handle myself in a fight, and many of the others are just as strong and stronger than myself in many cases, there are still quite a few of us that are definitely not veterans in combat. Then when we're all together again, we can think about trying to find a way back home."

Beleram stared at her for quite a long time, his fierce eyes making it look as if he was glaring at her, though it was really more of an intense stare. After a while he gathered himself and said, "That is quite a tall tale that you have given me there… Sparrowmon. I have not heard wilder stories than that when I was in the nest as a mere hatchling."

"But it's all true, I swear," Sparrowmon said immediately.

"I was not saying that it wasn't," Beleram shook his head. "But it is still a lot to take in. A lot of what you just told me sounds utterly ludicrous, if I may say so. And yet, I saw what you did back there in the ruins of Fornost. You turned with such amazing agility, sent bolts of strange lightning from those objects that you carry and from your own back. I saw you split into four on more than one occasion. If I had not seen that first, I think I might have taken you for a lunatic."

Sparrowmon flushed and said, "Well, good thing you did see it first then."

"Yes," Beleram nodded. "But if, as you claim, you are not even from this universe, then that would mean that you are from beyond the Void itself. Perhaps this is the work of some higher power that you are even here. Maybe the Ainur of old have something to do with this. Perhaps even the great Ilúvatar himself."

"Who?" Sparrowmon blinked. "I've never heard of him."

"I will merely use that as further evidence that what you say is true," Beleram declared. "Regardless, we Eagles know better than most of the powers from on high. I believe that your presence here may not be as much of a coincidence as you think."

Sparrowmon frowned. "I don't really understand."

"Then that makes us even," the bird chuckled. "For there is a lot about you that I still do not understand myself. In any case, if you are indeed a stranger in this world then I would assume that you have no place to settle and make your home. Perhaps you would wish to accompany me back to the Misty Mountains to meet with the rest of my kin. I am sure they would be fascinated to meet you."

"Well, thanks," Sparrowmon smiled. "But I really need to go back to looking for my friends."

"And that is precisely why I thought that you might wish to come. If you were to meet with the rest of my kin, who all roam far and wide to scout out the land with our keen eyes, you might learn something of your friends. If there is anyone who has seen one, it would most likely be one of my kind. And regardless of whether they have seen anything or not, perhaps you could convince them to help in your search, or to at least keep watch for something unusual."

Sparrowmon was suddenly beaming. "That… that would be great! Thank you, Beleram! Thank you so much! You guys would really be willing to help me."

"Perhaps," Beleram nodded. "I for one will. You saved my life, and if I can repay you by helping you to find your friends then I shall gladly do so. Not only that, but I would like to learn more about you and your friends. If they are as diverse as you claim, your presence may even be an interesting change of pace for me and my kind.

"As to the others, I cannot say. It is not often that my kind interferes with the events that take place below us. There was a time where we associated with the other races more, but nowadays we usually let the other children of the world get on with their own affairs. We did participate in the Battle of Five Armies nigh on sixty years ago, though I had not yet hatched at that time. But with something like this brought forward, I believe that Gwaihir may be willing to help, as will the others of my kind."

"That would be so great!" Sparrowmon cheered, swooping forward and taking Beleram completely off guard by wrapping her short arms around his neck to the best of her ability.

Beleram was nonplussed. As a being with no arms, hugging was a foreign concept to him, so when Sparrowmon released him, he just stared at her and said, "What was that for?"

"It was a hug," Sparrowmon snickered. "It's meant to show gratitude or affection depending on the situation."

"Well for a moment there I thought that you were trying to strangle me," Beleram shook his head. "Well, if you are coming with me then allow me to lead the way. Our roosts are many leagues from here and it may take a while to reach our destination. Come." And he unfurled his great wings and threw himself into the air, beating hard to gain some altitude as he rose up. Sparrowmon turned to follow, flying considerably slower than she had been recently, but with a goal now in mind she was in a much better mood.

"So," she said, as they gained height. "If you don't usually interfere with what happens normally, why did your lord ask you to go scouting out these lands so far away from where you live."

Beleram looked grim. "Lord Gwaihir is good friends with the Wizard Gandalf, who has informed him that war is indeed brewing again in Middle Earth. He has said that the Dark Lord Sauron – the one who that goblin chieftain mentioned to you earlier – has risen up once more, and that he is building up his armies again, to try another attempt at taking over the lands and ridding them of the Free Peoples. Gwaihir wanted more information, to ascertain how far Sauron had advanced, so he sent many of us out on scouting missions to various parts of the North. And I have ascertained myself that there are indeed dark forces beginning to grow thanks to my encounter at Fornost."

Sparrowmon felt her stomach tighten. "So there really will be war."

"It is a distinct possibility. Gandalf says that in some parts of Middle Earth it has already begun, and it will not be long before war comes to the rest of it."

"And if war does break out? Will you Eagles help then?"

"I believe it is likely that we will," Beleram nodded sagely. "While we certainly do not fight the wars between the Elves, Men and Dwarves that they pick amongst themselves, this is very different. Our ancestors aided the Free Peoples against the first Dark Lord Morgoth. Gwaihir's own ancestor, Thorondor, actually attacked and mutilated Morgoth's face. That is what we Eagles were originally sent to Middle Earth from the Undying Lands for – to keep an eye on the darkness and to help where we can.

"But Gwaihir believes that we have become too aloof. During Sauron's first rise, we Eagles did very little to help, preferring to stay in our Eyries and watch the world go by below us. But Gwaihir, as well as his brother Landroval, hold the same view as their father, who was the Lord of the Eagles sixty years ago, during the time of the Battle of the Five Armies, and that we have abandoned our duty to Middle Earth for too long. So we may act soon in the coming war, but when and in what manner I do not yet know."

"Well," Sparrowmon shrugged. "If all the enemy armies are like those goblins back there, it shouldn't be too hard as long as you're careful, right?"

"I would not say that," Beleram shook his head. "More shame on me for my capture to say it but that group of goblins was, for lack of a better word, tame. There were not as many of them as there usually are for one thing, and there are many other creatures of darkness out there that the Dark Lord and his allies would use. No, what we encountered back there was only the beginning. And not much of a beginning at that."

That quieted Sparrowmon down for a moment, but then she laughed and twirled through the air a couple of times and added, "Don't worry, Beleram. You've got us now. We might be lost in a strange world that we don't know, but we Digimon don't let others go suffering on our watch. Not ever. And we can definitely hold our own. Let's see what this Sauron geezer comes up with to try and stop the likes of _us._"

"Are you always this perky?"

"Yes. Deal with it."

* * *

For those of you who don't know, Beleram is a character who features throughout the War in the North games. For those of you who do, I should mention that the three main playable characters – Eradan, Andriel and Farin, will NOT be involved in this story, but a lot of the other characters will be.

Anyway, hope you liked this chapter and its resultant action sequence. Those goblins really didn't know how to handle Sparrowmon at all, did they? And for those of you who might be thinking that there isn't much out there who can challenge the powerful Digimon like Sparrowmon, I warn you, they will receive plenty of challenges in the future. This was just not one of them. Well. Bye-bye.

* * *

Next time…

As Saruman sends out his Uruks and the Wild Men to begin the raids on the Westfold of Rohan, fear and terror run rampant as they burn and pillage and slay wherever they go. But one thing that they might have failed to consider is the presence of a large wolf with orange fur which wasn't there until recently.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 17 : The Big Bad Dorulumon**


	17. The Big Bad Dorulumon

Ugh, I really am getting frustrated by my own lack of motivation at writing at the moment. This is because I LIKE DOING THE WRITING, but for some reason I keep having to push myself to actually get up and DO IT. I'm so preoccupied by other things. Anyway, here's the next chapter of TBAK and I promise to churn out the next chapter of QOTG as quickly as possible. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I really loved writing the second half when I could actually bring myself to do it. Seriously, what has happened to me?

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 17:- The Big Bad Dorulumon**

* * *

The horsemen had been extraordinarily persistent.

After the brief showdown at the giant wooden city which he had long since left behind, Dorulumon had fled across the grassy plains at top speed, thundering across the ground like an entire herd of deer on the move. He hated running away, but as far as he could see that had been his only option at this point. He needed to ascertain a few things before he started pissing off the locals, which he had apparently already done without intention.

The humans on their horses had been quick to follow, though it had taken them a long time for them to organise themselves into a pursuit, by which point Dorulumon was already a great distance away, with no destination in mind. But they had been fast and Dorulumon had grimly noticed that they could at the very least match his pace when he took a brief look back, if not actually go faster.

And he certainly didn't like the veritable forest of spears that they had brought with them.

So he had kept running, heading north at a relatively fast but steady pace. He had extreme levels of endurance, which allowed him to run from dawn to dusk, and longer if necessary – a trait which was held even by regular wolves from the Human World, so staying away from the following horsemen was not a problem. The problem was trying to get them to stop following him.

He had a feeling that if he tried to stop and talk to them then they would try to stick him anyway. After all, he had destroyed a large part of a perfectly good house while he had been in their city and then evaded some of their best efforts to stop him from escaping. No, he wouldn't be talking to them in that state.

The problem with the plains he was on was that there was just about no decent places to hide. There were hills certainly, but that would only do him so much good. It wasn't a proper hiding place if someone could spot you by just coming over a rise and looking down. But he needed to shake the horsemen and they seemed determined to follow him, even if he did manage to stay well out of their reach.

How they were following him at such a distance he wasn't sure. They certainly couldn't be following his scent – humans weren't designed to do that, so either he was leaving a distinct enough trail behind him or they could just see him in the distance, as he could see them whenever he turned around. Dorulumon suspected the former, but he couldn't be totally sure.

It was extremely frustrating.

His luck had eventually won out though. As he continued to head north he eventually found himself amongst much more rocky terrain, with boulders and small cliffs strewn about the place rather than simple grassy plains that he had been travelling across for some hours.

"Now this is more like it," he observed, and leapt into action, carefully traversing the rocks while attempting to maintain his speed. He sprang onto a large boulder and moved from there, taking mighty leaps and bounds from rock to rock to cliff to small pile of boulders etcetera. Mostly he was making sure to stay _off_ the grass and keep himself from making any further trail across the turf. Rock would be practically impossible to track him on except by smell, and with the way he was moving only in leaps, even smell would be a problem.

Dorulumon had learned how to lose pursuers the hard way. He knew exactly what it took to isolate himself and make sure that he stayed out of the way of others.

After all, when he had left the Bagra Army and caused Tactimon to lose the battle for the Zone he was trying to take for the first time, Tactimon had been beyond furious. Dorulumon had left a stain on his perfect military record and when Dorulumon had fled, the Bagra Army Officer had diverted a lot of resources into finding him and bringing him back.

Dorulumon had been a veteran for a long time, and knew how to take care of himself in a fight, but Tactimon had initially been relentless. The first few months after his desertion had been hectic, with Tactimon getting the best of the Bagra Army's trackers to come after him, and scouring places for him. He'd done everything short of setting Ba'almon, who had later become Beelzemon and joined the good side after his time as the Bagra Army's reaper, on him. And the only reason he hadn't done that was because Tactimon wanted to deal with the traitor himself.

It had been a harsh time, but Dorulumon had survived and adapted, until he disappeared from Tactimon's radar completely.

He hadn't had to use these skills for a long time. He'd never needed to hide away since he had joined Xros Heart. If it hadn't been for Cutemon, Dorulumon probably would never had shown himself in front of the humans at all, but he was glad he had. But now was definitely the time to stay away from the humans.

He moved like this for quite some time, springing with agility the belied his relatively hefty frame until he had long since lost sight of the humans among the rocky terrain. Nevertheless, he didn't stop until he found what he was looking for – a small cave in one of the cliffs. Here, he sprang onto another rock and vaulted straight into the darkness, touching down on the ground again well inside the wall of the cave.

"Lights out," he said to himself as he lifted his tail and aimed the huge drill at the tip at the roof above the entrance. Setting the drill whirling into motion, he carefully pushed it into the rock, tunnelling his tail into it with a loud piercing noise. He carefully withdrew the tail after a while and repeated the process twice more at either side of the entrance, weakening the rock with the eye of a professional until the rock had splintered enough to produce a controlled rockslide. Dorulumon moved deeper into the cave as a section of cliff splintered apart and piled up over the entrance, sealing it off completely, kicking up dust and cutting off the light.

The darkness didn't bother Dorulumon. He merely backed up to the wall he had just made and punched a hole in it near the top with his tail, to allow light and air to stream in for the small gap he couldn't even fit his head through. Sometimes he had to do this three or four times before the rocks stopped piling down to fill in the gap, but this time it held. Now, he was sealed in the cave with only a small gap for him to look out of. From the outside, it would look just like the rest of the cliff-face but for a small chink, of which there were a large number dotted all over the place.

The lupine Digimon then settled himself down, out of sight from his entrance hole and began to doze, regaining his strength in case he would need it later and trusting in his cave's disguise to keep him hidden. He had questions of course, like where the heck was he and what had happened, but Dorulumon was a practical Digimon. Puzzling over that would only make him worry so he contented himself to ask those questions when there was a potential answer in the offing.

Still, he couldn't help worrying about some of the others. Particularly Cutemon, who had been in his charge for a long time.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he slept before he heard the noises outside which roused him. Horses hooves and the sound of men's voices, causing him to press himself to the floor and lay his jaw against the ground, listening hard.

"…sign of it over there?" a voice close to his hiding place was saying.

"Not a thing," said another much further away. "It's as if its disappeared completely."

"Nothing over here either, sir," came another voice that was even fainter. "It seems to have eluded us."

"What shall we do?" asked a fourth voice, accompanied by the nervous whinny of a horse. "Do we return to Edoras?"

"Not yet," declared the first voice. "We shall keeping looking for a few more hours. If there is a chance that it is still in the area we cannot let that foul abomination of Saruman's escape us. It's large enough and powerful enough to be a serious threat to the outlying villages on its own. We keep searching."

Dorulumon suppressed a snort of derision. Foul abomination? He had been called many things in his life but that was certainly a new one. And who the heck was Saruman supposed to be?

But he said nothing and didn't move an inch as the sound of hooves moved closer to his hiding place, until they were literally right outside. If Dorulumon sneezed he was pretty sure they would hear him, but nothing happened. The horsemen didn't even pause. They just continued past the blocked cave without stopping even for a second. No suspicion. Nothing.

And they passed on.

Dorulumon listened to the sounds of hooves fading into the distance and chuckled to himself. He still had his skills it seemed. The men didn't seem to have a clue he was here.

Still, going out there now would be a bad idea. There was the chance that he would run into them again accidentally and then the whole chase would start again, and he'd have a far less significant lead. No, he would stay around here for a while and wait for the cover of darkness before he tried anything else. That would minimise his chances of running into anything else with something sharp that could cause him some damage.

So he merely settled himself down, secure in his small cave, and fell asleep again.

Remaining completely unaware of the conflict that was beginning to arise some distance away from where he rested.

* * *

Saruman was pleased.

Why would he not be? After his meeting with the leader of the Wild Men from Dunland had gone down so well the previous day, he intended to wield the newfound loyalty of the vicious men from the lands to the west instantly. His Uruk-Hai army was still being constructed and prepared for the main event that was to come, but he had been eager to start the campaign against Rohan, his long-time neighbouring country.

What better way to start than to use the Wild Men, who were already established enemies of Rohan, to begin operations for him, until the group of Uruk-Hai he had sent after the Fellowship returned with the Hobbits they had been ordered to capture.

It had not taken long for the Wild Men to muster, and that very night Saruman had been surrounded by a huge band of the scruffy, ragged men with their thick beards, grubby hair and filthy faces, as well as their makeshift weapons. Saruman was unconcerned by their vicious looks. They were no threat to him at all. And they seemed to be in awe of him.

Kindling the fire in their stomachs and their thirst for action against Rohan had not been difficult either. The Wild Men had always hated the Rohirrim and he hadn't been talking for longer than a minute before they were already raring to go.

"The horsemen took your lands!" he had declared. "They drove your people into the hills, to scratch a living off rocks!"

The Wild Men already knew all this, but whenever it was mentioned they reacted in the same way. There were yells from all round and one individual at the fore of the crowd screamed "MURDERERS!" Others instantly took up the call until they were all growling and snarling like primitive beasts rather than Men, waving their viciously hooked weapons and brandishing their torches like madmen.

"Take back the lands they stole from you," Saruman instructed smoothly, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over the clamour. "Burn every village!"

That had been all that was needed. The Wild Men might have been hesitant on their own considering they had made several failed attempts to capture Rohan in the past, but as they now had Saruman's support they were raring to get started. With many of Saruman's Uruk-Hai that were already ready for battle with them, the Wild Men had streamed out of Isengard's gates in their droves, screaming for the blood of the Rohirrim, while the Uruk-Hai were eager for a taste of their first enemy blood.

Saruman had watched them go with smug satisfaction. Once he and Rohan had been allies and he had been a counsellor to Rohan's Kings. But now he saw the futility in everything they had been trying to achieve. Their ideals were lies, and there was none who could stand before the rising might of Sauron. Saruman knew it would not be long now before the tide broke over the mountains of Mordor and washed out to cast darkness over all the surrounding lands.

So he was pleased. Pleased to be a part of the rising darkness and pleased that he had no reason to fear for his own life. And if he obtained the Ring himself… why then, perhaps he could even lead from a position even more powerful than that of Sauron.

Yes, blood would soon be spilled over the lands of Rohan. The peasants first and then the horsemen and then the nobility itself. His fingers were already closing around the city of Edoras and its King from within. There was little that could stop him now.

There was a brief nagging thought at the back of his head – the strange disturbance that both he and Sauron had sensed the previous day. But his looks into the Palantír had discovered nothing, and Sauron had not given him any further updates either. It was likely to be just a hiccup – a strange fluctuation of magic somewhere. That was not unheard of, after all.

Saruman had nothing to fear.

* * *

The Wild Men and the Uruk-Hai were brutal and swift, though they made no effort to be silent. They streamed into Rohan like a black tide the following day, still ready for action and determined to get it. There was the possibility of plunder as well as deaths in the sights of the Wild Men, which just spurred them on all the more.

The first village they reached never stood a chance. It was, in short, a complete massacre. It was a simple farming village, situated next to river Isen and growing what crops they could, but the lives of the people were completely obliterated within minutes as the tide surged into their homes. Swords and axes flashed and screams rent the air, mingling with the cries of triumph and the roars of the Wild Men and the Uruks. Nobody had time to plead or beg for mercy as they were ransacked, every citizen bulled over and hacked down where they lay.

Nobody was spared. Men, women, children, even the animals. It was a bloody slaughter and unfortunately it was also the reality of war. Nobody was safe, and all that was left when the forces of Isengard moved on were piles of corpses and the broken, burning remains of the thatched houses that had stood undisturbed there not half an hour before.

The groups of murdering pillagers split off into several smaller groups to scour the countryside of Rohan. Everywhere the story was the same thing. Every single time they encountered a village they would storm in and wreak their bloody havoc against the unsuspecting villagers. Occasionally there would be a lucky one or two of the peasants who would manage to hide themselves away, but even most of those who tried were rooted out by the Uruks and killed where they cowered.

It was murder, plain and simple.

But the Wild Men and the Uruks were clearly loving every minute of it. Whether it was from the desire for revenge or just simply because they were after blood was irrelevant. Every last one of them was a monster.

They swept over the land, going as far as the Entwash river and moving across the Westfold of Rohan destroying everything in their wake as they swept south. It was these ransacked places on the side of the river which Deckerdramon encountered on his way north before he entered the forest of Fangorn and met with Treebeard, Gandalf and Shoutmon, but the crocodilian had no way of knowing the scale of the damage which was being wrought on the lands around him.

The Wild Men pilfered what they could, which wasn't all that much from these poor establishments and took it with them. Many villagers managed to escape from the main attack and fled for their lives into the hills, but the tide merely followed on after them in the wave of destruction that they were causing, forcing them to keep running simply to stay ahead. Many fell when they reached their limit and could go no further, and all who did became more victims of the onslaught from Isengard.

* * *

And so the case seemed to be destined to be similar for one particular village, several leagues from the borders of the River Isen. This village was as unspectacular as any of the others, with only the most meagre amounts of housing or sanitation, or anything that could reliably sustain them but for a small lake nearby, and a few crops and chickens which the people used to feed only themselves.

This village was luckier than most of the others, in that it received some warning of the approaching foes. A lone man who had been out on the lake in his leaky little boat attempting to catch some fish on a crude line had spotted the surge of Wild Men and Uruks racing down from the higher ground at the other side of the lake and dashing around it. The Man noticed that if they continued their current course they would run straight into his village, which he correctly believed to be their aim and he had hurried back to shore to tell everybody about the oncoming horde of barbarians.

Understandably the reaction had been panic. People had dashed into their houses in mad attempts to salvage what they could carry before they made a dash for it, women yelling at them to hurry up and trying to calm their terrified children.

However, in the commotion, there was one woman who kept her head despite the fear gripping her heart, and she hurried into motion. Her name was Morwen, the wife of the village's only huntsman who would go out and try to catch some game to share amongst the community. Because of this, her small family was the owner of the only horse in the village, a large black beast called Garulf, and she hurriedly pulled him out of his simple stable and began prepping him for departure.

But not for herself. There were far more important people who needed to evacuate than herself, at least from her own personal perspective. As she saddled the horse and checked the reigns while everybody else was still rushing about and heading away, she quickly called to one of those people:-

"Éothain!" she urged. "Éothain!"

A young boy with reasonably long hair hurried over with a hastily-packed bag of supplies, a small and even younger girl running up behind him. These two were brother and sister, and also Morwen's two children – the two who she loved more than anybody else in the world. The boy was Éothain and the girl, who was a couple of years younger than her brother, was called Freda. Freda also had a small sack of food with her as they hurried to their mother's side, dodging chickens as they went.

Morwen wasted no time and grabbed her son, helping to hoist him up into the saddle on the back of the enormous horse. "You take your sister," she instructed, in a tone that brought no room for argument, pushing him into the seat and passing him the bag. "You'll go faster with just two."

"Papa says Éothain must not ride Garulf," protested Freda. "He is too big for him." And it was certainly true that Garulf was large even by horse standards and Éothain's feet couldn't reach the stirrups even when at their highest. But Morwen ignored the young girl's words as they had no time to consider anything else and before the girl had even finished speaking she had picked her from beneath the arms and heaved her upwards, Éothain helping to move her into the saddle in front of him.

"Listen to me!" Morwen gripped her son's arm urgently, knowing that they were not the first village to come under threat and most certainly would not be the last. "You must ride to Edoras and raise the alarm. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mama," Éothain nodded immediately, his throat tight at the prospect of leaving his parents behind but knowing that there was nothing else he could do and that this was very important. That didn't mean he had to like it though, but he understood what was needed of him.

Freda was more reluctant and her eyes were already leaking as she leaned over and whimpered, "I don't want to leave. I don't want to go, Mama!"

"Freda," Morwen protested, taking her daughter's face in her hands. "I _will_ find you there," she promised hollowly, knowing full well that her chances of survival were not going to be that good but giving her daughter one last shred of hope and incentive to save herself. She quickly leaned in and kissed Freda's forehead, and at the exact same moment another woman screamed.

Morwen jerked back and looked out from behind Garulf's body and to her horror she saw the dark tide of Uruks and Wild Men had crested the hill and were on the final approach to the village already.

"Quickly!" she cried and spurred the horse forwards. Freda sobbed openly while Éothain did his best to hide his own distress and added his efforts. Garulf got the message and began to canter away, Morwen stopping to watch the black horse taking her loved ones to safety. Neither of them looked back, knowing that if they did they would only see something they didn't want to.

"Go child," Morwen whispered, upset but satisfied that they at least would be safe. Now she had to worry about herself and she had very good reason to, for the tide of enemies was pouring down the slope with their purpose made quite clear by their waving weapons and torches, and the panicked villagers all around her fleeing for their lives. Morwen hurried away, trying to grab at least a couple of chunks of bread before she too had to run.

* * *

Dorulumon was no longer sure how far he had wandered. He had spent a large proportion of the previous night in his rocky hide, until the Moon had been high in the sky and the smell of the horsemen had faded enough to satisfy him that they were definitely not in the area any longer. Then he had emerged, busting through the rock pile at the front of the cave with his tail before emerging out into the night.

Taking no chances, he had kept to the rocks as much as possible, staying off the grass to avoid leaving any unnecessary tracks unless he needed to. He kept low to the ground, moving like a panther in the darkest forest as he moved slowly towards higher ground, where he would have a better view of his surroundings. He eventually got to the top of a high rocky rise and looked around. It was a bright night and he could see well in the dark so he could quickly take in his surroundings.

Satisfied that there were no horsemen still in the area he moved on, traversing the rocky areas steadily and crossing the more open spaces as quickly as possible to reach cover again. You could never be too careful in a strange area and Dorulumon had enough experience in not being seen to know this for himself. But he had definitely lost his pursuers now.

His thoughts turned once again to his friends and he knew he had to find them, but thus far he hadn't picked up any of their scents from the air. So he simply moved as he had in the old days before he met Taiki, moving 'wherever the wind took him' as he would put it. And right now, that had meant further north.

He was still walking by the time the morning came and the Sun replaced the Moon in the sky, and he had no intention of stopping until he found something of his current location and predicament or his companions, which led him to continue across the seemingly endless plains well into the morning, encountering nobody and nothing along the way until it had almost reached mid-day.

And then a scent caught in his nostrils. Several scents actually, including those of some strange animals which he had never filled before, the smell of manure and produce, the smell of fire and perhaps most importantly, the smell of more humans.

Dorulumon unconsciously dropped lower. His experience of humans since he had got here had not exactly been great, but his experience of the humans before that had been generally good, despite his misgivings about Kiriha and Nene in their first encounters, after which they had proven themselves good people. He'd never had any reason to be cautious of humans until the ones with spears had tried to take him out.

Nevertheless, he needed answers and humans were likely to be able to give him some, if not all, of what he was after. If they were soldiers then he would back away and keep moving, but if not then he could ask them a few questions. And so he moved forward swiftly but silently, heading through the rocks and following the scent drifting into his nostrils.

* * *

When the village was attacked, it was just as swift and brutal as all of the others. People who had spent too much time panicking than thinking about what they were supposed to do, or who had tried to overpack or just been too slow were caught in the village buildings before they had a chance to flee.

For these people, there was no chance of survival. They were set upon and hewn by the snarling Uruks and the jeering Wild Men who were all stronger then they were, and killed in mere moments. They were mercilessly kicked or bulled over and slashed at where they fell, extinguishing their lives instantly, and neither of the groups of Saruman's forces showed any discrimination as to what they were attacking.

The forces of Isengard stormed into the houses and ransacked the places. Anybody still inside the houses cowered and begged for mercy in the corners but of course there was none. Those that were not killed by the sword were trapped inside while the houses were set fire to, the Uruks letting off cackling snarls as they watched the wooden buildings go up in smoke, whether they had people still inside or not.

They swarmed through the village, screams and roars renting the air wherever they went, as the villagers scrambled madly to get away, even as more poured over the hill they had come over before. Morwen was among those villagers, dropping her hastily gathered supplies and dashing away, a gang of Wild Men less than ten feet behind her as they cut down other stragglers who were not as quick.

In all, it took less than two minutes before practically the whole village was set alight and overrun by the forces of Isengard. Fortunately _most_ of the villagers had managed to take advantage of the warning and had left the village, but now followed a mad scramble from everyone as they fled for their lives, pursued by the howling mob as their livelihoods went up in smoke. Morwen fled along with everyone else, trying to keep a step ahead of the boundless stamina of the Uruk-Hai.

Their only hope now would be to lose their pursuers among the rocky landscape nearby.

And from the edge of that rugged terrain, Éothain and Freda looked back in horror at the scene of devastation which had swept through their village like a wildfire, Garulf skittering nervously at the smell of orc in his nostrils. Neither of them could even tell if their mother was still alive, not able to pick her out amongst the fleeing crowd behind them.

But Éothain knew that he couldn't help them now and so, with a sniff and a half-choke he spurred Garulf on to the best of his ability. The horse was far too large for him but it was well trained and seemed to understand what was being asked of it, complying quickly and entering the rocks, pulling the two children away from everything they knew and towards the wilderness. Éothain tried to force everything from his mind and focus on getting to Edoras, but Freda wept openly, almost burying her face in Garulf's mane.

What hope did their mother really have of escaping from that horde? What hope did any of the villagers without a horse have?

* * *

Dorulumon bounded up across the rocks, wanting to gain the higher ground again so he'd have the advantage in a potential confrontation, moving forward swiftly but quietly, as if stalking prey. The smell of human was growing stronger in his nostrils, but there were other more foul odours beginning to register their presence too, such as the smell of thick smoke and even a little blood. And something else which he couldn't place, but which had a foul stench that seemed to sear at his nostrils more than the smell of smoke.

He was getting a feeling on unease building inside him. It was an old instinct of his – one that he had not felt in a long time since he had started living at the castle. It was a sensation that prickled at the back of his neck, as if there was an air of malice close by. Since living in the castle he had not needed that sense – nobody had ever attacked. But the instinct had clearly not dulled, and Dorulumon didn't like where this was heading.

Nonetheless, he pressed on, awaiting answers.

And soon, he found what he was looking for.

As he crested another rocky rise he found himself looking down a small cliff into a shallow gulley – one of many in the hilly landscape he'd been traversing for hours on end. What was different about this one was that there was somebody else in it. A large black horse, and a pair of human children who were sitting astride it, the larger one behind the smaller one.

Dorulumon couldn't stop a small smile spreading out on his face. Children were the kind of humans that he was most used to, having never even spoken to an adult human before yesterday. This was something that he could work with. And they certainly didn't look up to attacking him. The boy looked to be the same age, or perhaps even a little younger, than Yuu had been. The girl was the smallest human he had ever seen in his life, and the fact she was sitting on a massive horse made the difference all the more noticeable. Seeing the two of them did bring back some fond memories – that he had to admit. Usually he would be the horse in that sort of situation though, but what did that matter.

Regardless, he didn't really have time to dwell on the past and get nostalgic. They were cantering through the gulley at a reasonable pace and Dorulumon certainly didn't want to have to chase after them – that wouldn't go down very well. Nor did he want to just leap down and land in front of them. That would definitely look like an attack. And he needed to talk to these children, not scare them.

So, he backed out of sight before they could see and hared off further down the edge of the gulley until he reached a corner not far away where he would be out of sight. In two swift bounds he was at the bottom and turned to face the direction they would appear from, sitting down and trying to assume a non-threatening pose. It felt quite demeaning as he lowered his head a little. He was not used to trying to not intimidate people. He'd never had to try for Cutemon – the little bunny had taken to him straight away.

It took only about five seconds for the horse to round the corner and when it saw and smelled Dorulumon it immediately pulled to a halt with a shrill nicker and tried to back away. The children were jerked out of whatever thoughts they had, but before either of them could wonder what was wrong, both of them laid eyes on the problem.

"Hello humans," Dorulumon said lamely, not really sure what he was meant to say in a situation like this.

"It's a warg!" screamed the girl before he could get any further. "It's going to eat us!"

"I'm going to what?" Dorulumon blinked.

"Quick, let's get out of here!" the boy cried and steered the horse the other way to the best of his ability, which wasn't much but the horse was only too happy to oblige.

"Well, so much for that," Dorulumon growled to himself as he stood up. "Whatever the heck a warg is supposed to be evidently these people are not fans of them." And he immediately did the thing he had been trying to avoid and bounded off after the fleeing riders.

"It's coming after us!" the girl wailed, pressing herself against the horse's neck.

"Hey! Will you get back here?" Dorulumon yelled, which was probably not the best choice of words.

"Run, Garulf, run!" the boy shouted, kicking at the horse desperately. The horse was fast and was getting faster with each passing second but Dorulumon was far from slow himself. He was able to match the speed of a Trailmon if necessary, and he quickly poured all of his energy into his leg muscles and hurled himself forwards in a lightning blur of orange fur, springing straight over a boulder and haring after the panicked equine.

The two children were terrified out of their minds. Neither of them had ever actually encountered a warg before but they had heard what happened to people who were cornered by them and it was never pleasant. The boy looked over his shoulder and saw Dorulumon rapidly gaining, yelling and pouring all his efforts into increasing the horse's pace, but it was hopeless. Dorulumon bounded onto a ledge and dashed across it, overtaking the horse and springing to land in a skidding halt in front of it.

The horse gave a high-pitched squeal and reared up, batting the air with its legs but not getting them near Dorulumon. The boy managed to cling to the saddle but the girl's scream mingled with the horse's as she lost her grip and was practically flung off before the boy could grab her, though he valiantly snatched at her as she fell past. Falling off a horse could be damaging for an adult, but being thrown off a horse could be very dangerous to a child.

Especially since she had just been flung at a boulder head-first.

Dorulumon's instincts went into overdrive and he hurled himself forwards, his back legs throwing him through the air like a pair of springs and catapulting him past the horse. All the girl saw in her split second of being flung through the air was a huge set of claws and sabre-teeth lunging at her and but she didn't even have time to scream again before Dorulumon was on her. The lupine Digimon seized her by the back of her rough shirt and jerked her aside, his own shoulder crashing into the boulder in place of her head as she hung from his jaws. He grunted and winced, knowing that would ache for a while, but he had had far worse injuries than that in the past.

The girl was still screaming her head off, kicking her feet as she hung from Dorulumon's teeth, but the Digimon just rolled his eyes and stepped away from the rock and gently placed her back on the ground, letting her go and stepping away. The girl seemed surprised to be standing and not mauled to pieces, but she still hurried back towards the boy and the horse, which was still decidedly far from calm and kept bucking its head.

The boy, on the other hand, was staring at Dorulumon practically slack-jawed.

"You're welcome," Dorulumon sniffed, trying to inspect his shoulder.

"You… saved my sister's life?" the boy asked, seemingly stunned out of his mind.

"Of course," Dorulumon rolled his eyes. "Though that seems to be a foreign concept to the humans in this area. I've had nothing but people pointing spears at me since I found myself here. Or running away from me in the case of you two. I was under the impression that your kind was more level-headed than that. Apparently I was wrong."

Both the girl and the boy were now staring at him in absolute bewilderment.

"Still planning on running off?" Dorulumon asked.

"Uh… well…" the boy stuttered, trying and failing to take some control back from this situation. "But… but you're a warg, aren't you? We've heard stories about your kind. Everyone says that you're vicious and savage creatures which tear down horses and feast on their carcasses. They say that you make friends with the orcs and go with them into battle. They say that your packs sometimes storm a village if they think it's not protected enough. And there are stories of your kind sneaking into people's houses in the night."

"I've heard them too," the girl nodded, stepping closer to the nervous horse and still obviously very scared of the newcomer. "Why did you let me go? Aren't you planning on eating me?"

"Look kids," Dorulumon growled. "I don't know what other kinds of wild stories you've been fed in your infancy about these warg creatures, but I can assure you that I am not one of them. I am most certainly not a warg, unless a warg happens to be a lupine creature with orange fur, saber-teeth and with drills on their forehead and tail. I don't know why all the humans I've met recently have been claiming I am a warg, but they are wrong."

"You're not a warg?" the boy blinked.

"That is what I just said," Dorulumon repeated slowly. "Not a warg. I am a Digimon. You have nothing to fear from me. You would not catch me doing any of those things which you rattled off earlier."

"He's trying to trick us," the girl whimpered. "I heard stories that some wargs were really cunning."

"What possible reason could I have for trying to trick you?" Dorulumon raised an eyebrow. "If I wanted to kill you, I could have done so many times during this conversation. And I wouldn't have stopped you from hurting yourself, human girl. Is that the sort of thing that these wargs of yours are prone to do?"

Brother and sister looked at one another, uncertainly, and the horse seemed to be no better than before – still skittish and fighting the urge to bolt. Dorulumon just sighed and sat down. "Look," he said. "All I want to do is talk. I have a few questions that I would like answers to. After you answer them to the best of your ability I will leave and you'll never see anything like me again in your life, I can assure you."

The boy was pondering. Now that his sister had fallen off the horse it was going to be a real struggle to get her back on it, even if he got off and pushed her up, and if he did that then getting back in himself would be ridiculously hard. Plus, this creature had proven itself to be faster than the horse. There was no way they could get away from it if it really wanted to do them harm.

Maybe, just maybe, it was telling the truth.

"Um…" he said.

"You really saved my life?" the girl muttered. "Just because you could do it?"

Dorulumon's muzzle twisted into a lupine smirk. "It seems that I have a certain soft spot for kids. No matter what species they belong to. First Cutemon, then Taiki and the others. Now you too. What's next, I wonder. And yes, I did. There was the fact that it was my fault you were thrown from your horse anyway too, but even if it hadn't been then I would have done. Do I sound like a vicious killer to you?"

"No," the girl shook her head, moving away from the horse slightly and stepping closer, though still obviously very afraid. "Um… my name is Freda and this is my brother Éothain."

"Ah, names," the Digimon chuckled. "Now we're getting somewhere. My name is Dorulumon."

"That's a weird name," Éothain blinked.

"And that's subjective," Dorulumon replied instantly. "Now, are you going to let me ask my questions or not?"

The boy, Éothain, suddenly shook his head. "We… we can't. We don't have time. We've got to get to the city of Edoras and warn the king. We just escaped from our village, which was being attacked by orcs and the Wild Men. Everyone's running for their lives. We had to leave our mother back there and she might even be dead now and…"

The words caught in Éothain's throat. This was partly due to the fact that he was choking up naturally at the thought of abandoning his mother to die, but the other reason was that he had faltered at the look which had suddenly crossed Dorulumon's face. The wolf Digimon's eyes had widened and his pupils shrank, blazing with anger as a furious looking snarl appearing on his jaws, baring his formidable set of teeth.

Freda squeaked and backed away and Garulf the horse nickered again, but Dorulumon ignored both and said, "Your village was attacked?"

"It's… it's probably still _being_ attacked," Éothain stammered out.

Images were flashing through Dorulumon's head now, as he remembered his meeting with Cutemon. The circumstances had been rather different but Cutemon's village had also been attacked, by the Bagra Army that Dorulumon himself had once been a part of. He had been separated from his dear parents, because they had put him in a boat and pushed him to safety before they themselves were caught.

And these children had been just been separated from their mother who had sent them away on a horse so they would be safe, leaving herself behind. Dorulumon might not have been a part of this attacking army in the past, but other than that the situation was almost identical.

Except for one more thing.

He and Cutemon had met far too late for Dorulumon to do anything but help him to find his parents.

That was _not _the case this time.

"Show me!" he snarled. "Take me back to your village. We'll see if I have anything to say about these attackers."

* * *

The village itself was already lost, reduced to little more than a pillar of smoke and a smouldering ruin. None of its previous occupants were still there and alive and now the large numbers of survivors fled towards the rocks at their top speed. Many of them were weighed down by the provisions they had tried to snatch up, and most were sensible enough to drop those provisions and increase their speed.

But still the endurance of the Uruk-Hai and the Wild Men was unrelenting. They were built for this and as they surged after the scattered villagers they quickly gained ground, until the back-runners were slain from behind as they attempted to flee.

Morwen was a fast runner, which had allowed her to stay ahead of the horde and even pull away from them a little as they slowed to kill people who were not quick enough, but she still knew she had to reach the rocks if she was ever going to escape. It seemed like an age before she reached them and she and the other villagers all around her quickly delved in amongst the boulders, all dashing down the ravine in a mad bid for their lives.

The Uruks followed, closely followed by the yelling Wild Men. Both groups had now tasted blood and the fires within them were still burning bright, determined for more death and desolation, resolving to spare nobody, eager for the kill.

But Morwen was still satisfied. Even if she was cut down here today, at least her children would be safe, on their way to Edoras faster than the Uruks could hope to follow.

It was therefore a great surprise and a moment of intense panic when she spotted Garulf rounding a corner up ahead, both her children clinging to the saddle on his back and heading _back_ towards them. No! This was not what she had wanted! She needed them to be safe!

"Éothain!" she screamed. "Freda! What are you doing? Go! Get out of here and warn the King! Please, leave!"

"Mama!" cried Freda. "You're alright!"

"I told you to go!" Morwen was shrieking now, running at them with arms waving. She rarely raised her voice to her children but this was not the time for gentle words anymore.

"But we brought help," Éothain shouted. "We found someone who can help us against them!"

Most of the villagers around didn't even hear this little exchange, as absorbed as they were in their own panic. But what happened next definitely got their attention, when a loud howling noise broke through the air. Everybody faltered out of fear and surprise, and even the Uruks and the Wild Men momentarily pulled themselves to a stop, bewildered.

"Are they the ones?" said a voice.

"Uh-huh," nodded Freda. "Can you beat them?"

"I have never tested myself against they're kind, so I cannot say for sure," said the voice, and a shadow appeared at the top of the edge of the ravine. "However, I certainly intend to make them regret their decision to invade your lands."

"Warg!" cried a villager fearfully, pointing up towards the shadow and there was a ripple of terror through the crowd as they took in the sight above them. But before they could start a full-fledged panic and return to running, the 'warg' chuckled.

"Again with the warg thing," Dorulumon said, and with a two bounds he had dashed across the clifftop and sprang outwards, landing straight in the gap between the villagers and their attackers, taking a wide stance and glaring at the Uruks.

"It's just one Warg, even if does look weird," shouted one of the Wild Men gruffly. "Get it!" And with scattered yells and roars the legion from Isengard surged forwards again.

"Tell me," Dorulumon said over his shoulder, as the drill on his tail began to spin and grow simultaneously. "Can a Warg do this?" And suddenly he sprang into the air, swinging his tail drill beneath him so the point touched the ground. It was now big enough for him to actually stand on the base and as he landed there the drill whirled him into a spin as he roared, **"DRILL BLADER!"**

Neither the Uruks nor the Wild Men had any warning. Densely packed as they were in the ravine, they were totally unable to dodge when the enormous whirling drill barrelled towards them like the worlds biggest spinning top and ploughed into them, shattering bones and weapons alike and tossing them in all directions, throwing them forcefully into the rocky walls all around them or even tossing them so high in the air they went straight over the top of them. Dorulumon cut a huge swathe through their lines in this manner, barring those who were lucky enough to be out of his range at the edges of the ravine.

The villagers were understandably stunned. Where previously they had been fleeing for their lives, all they could do now was watch, rooted to the spot despite the fact that most of them still wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. They just couldn't bring themselves to.

Even when Dorulumon's attack ended he didn't stop moving. He threw himself off his drill and, still spinning, whipped it around into a number of Uruks before it had even had time to shrink. When it did and he landed on all fours with his drill at normal size he bounded forwards and slammed his paws into the chests of two more to bowl them over, crushing them into the ground and leaping over their fallen bodies – stepping on their heads with his back feet in the process – to seize a Wild Man by the arm with his vicious teeth.

As the man yelled Dorulumon tossed him aside like a doll with a savage jerk of his head to fling him into many others, swinging his tail around savagely at the same time to smack an Uruk in the head so hard his helmet dented. He lunged forwards again with a lash of his huge claws that swept the legs out from a couple more Wild Men and then flung himself away, bounding a tight corner to ram another three at the other end of the ravine.

All this happened before the Uruks or Wild Men could even really register what was going on, such was the speed of Dorulumon's strike. But, just as they managed to pull themselves together, Dorulumon bounded away, back the way that he had come and through the gap he had made with his Drill Blader. He wheeled around again when he was standing in the same place as he had been before he'd attacked at all and faced down the group once again.

"That was a warning," he said. "I will not get my claws unnecessarily dirty fighting against humans. However, if you continue to oppress and chase these people I will be forced to act further."

"No Warg tell us what to do," snarled an Uruk in barely recognisable Common Tongue. "We are the fighting Uruk-Hai. We will not waver in front of one single enemy."

"And I will not back down," Dorulumon informed him stoically, his tone dropping to a more dangerous one. "There was a time when I was the oppressor of weaker life-forms. I have walked in the boots that you now wear. But now my role has changed. As a Digimon of Xros Heart, I will no longer turn my back on the suffering of others, regardless of their pasts. But these people are innocents, and I will protect them to my dying breath if you force my hand."

"Then you shall protect them to your dying breath indeed," a Wild Man snarled. "But as your death will be quick that won't be for very long."

"It would be unwise for you to underestimate me. You've already seen what I can do."

"You caught us off guard," cried another Wild Man.

"True," Dorulumon relented. "I can see that you are beyond reason, but I thought it best to at least give you a chance. That is what my former General would have done. But…" his eyes narrowed further. "I was rather hoping that you would decline my offer. I saw the damage you have done over the rise. You are perhaps even worse than some of the Bagra Armies underlings. You have slaughtered dozens, burning them alive inside their own homes and destroyed their livelihoods. I imagine many of those behind me have lost loved ones today because of you. Do not expect me to go easy on you."

There was an unsteady silence from the group from Isengard as Dorulumon lowered himself closer to the ground, ready for combat. But then an Uruk let loose a roar, baring its fangs and pounding its chest. "It's just one! We are the forces of the White Hand! We will not retreat from a lone wolf. Get it! Kill it! We will feast on its flesh tonight!"

And the group let loose a yell and charged forwards, waving their weapons.

"So be it," Dorulumon smirked, calmly. "I gave you your chance and you failed to take it. I can certainly be held responsible for what happens next, but I won't regret it. **DRILL BUSTER!"**

Without even moving from the place where he was standing he fired the drill out of his forehead. It shot across the closing gap between him and the enemy and struck an Uruk in the chest, burying past his armour to elicit a screech of pain and hitting with such force that he was blown backwards, especially since the drill exploded moments later.

The Uruks and Wild Men faltered and gasped, but before they could do anything else, another drill had already grown out of the hole in Dorulumon's headset left by the other and fired outwards to slam into a Wild Man's thigh. Suddenly the Uruks and the Wild Men were finding themselves bombarded by spinning drills which swarmed down the ravine and cannoned into them. Dorulumon was firing about seven drills from his forehead ever second, scattering them across the ravine to batter down the whole group, dropping the first few rows where they stood.

The villagers watched slack-jawed as Dorulumon laid the enemy low with pinpoint accuracy and without even moving his feet an inch. A low growl was emanating from deep within Dorulumon's throat as he continued the attack mercilessly.

But the Isengard troops were not beaten yet, and with cries of rage they stormed forward into the Drill Buster swarm. Some raised their swords and were actually lucky enough to turn the drills aside but most were still mown down by the assault. That didn't put them off though, determined as they were to succeed, and they pressed on, trying to get close to Dorulumon through sheer weight of numbers.

Dorulumon tutted and shifted his hind legs. Too late the enemy noticed the two extra set of drills that he had on each of his back legs and suddenly they too launched themselves outwards in flurries of motion. Screams and cries filled the air as the drills rained down on the enemy like hailstones from hell, each person getting within range slammed by at least five projectiles before they could even think.

Dorulumon had to admit though that the terrain was what was mostly working out for him in this fight. In such a narrow space he had every advantage. In a wider area he would be having much more trouble, because the enemy would be able to separate and come at him from many more angles than the front.

But that didn't make what he was doing now any less awesome really.

Eventually he relented, stopping the Drill storm that he had unleashed, allowing him to survey the damage that he had done. It was utter devastation. Uruks and Wild Men were lying dead and wounded everywhere, littering the ravine with their bodies strewn all over the place, sprawling across the ground limp and in some cases groaning. There were no drills lying about – they'd all exploded or vanished the moment they were no longer useful.

There were still a very large portion of the Uruks and Wild Men left crowding together not far away, looking in shock at their defeated comrades.

"Monster!" breathed one of the Wild Men. "He's a monster!"

"A monster, am I?" Dorulumon chuckled. "Well, technically yes, I suppose I am. A Digital Monster, to be precise. But in the other sense of the word, it is you who are the monsters. Killing because it's fun, slaughtering the innocent – there can be no better definition of the term. I have seen enough of your kind in the past. And there is no place in any world for you."

Even the Uruks were looking nervous now, though it was difficult to see their expressions beneath the helmets of those who wore them. Not many of them had brought any projectile weapons with them, having preferred the thought of getting much closer to their opponents in order to kill them off. However, there were a few Uruks with crossbows within their ranks and there was quick muttering as some of the clear-headed of their kind tried to organise a counter-attack.

"Now then," Dorulumon added with a snarl. "Does anybody else feel like trying to test me?"

"You won't escape the wrath of Saruman," cried one of the Wild Men, the Uruks snarling in agreement. "He will hunt you down and totally destroy you, strange Warg. Nowhere will be safe from the White Wizard or the Dark Lord in the East."

"I'll be sure to say 'hello' to both of them before I put a drill in their foreheads," Dorulumon said casually. His battle-observation had already picked out the Uruks close to the rear struggling onto boulders and ledges to get their crossbows in position, and he responded by enlarging the drill on the end of his tail again. "But I'm afraid all I have to say to you is 'goodbye.'"

There was a roar from the Uruk crowd and a sudden flurry of crossbow bolts cut through the air towards Dorulumon and the villagers who were still behind him. The villagers screamed and ducked or cowered, but Dorulumon's tail drill was already spinning, and he had raised it over his head to direct it at the enemy like a gun, though it certainly was not a gun. As the crossbow Uruks fired, Dorulumon's rapidly-spinning tail let rip too.

"**DORULU TORNADO!"**

All and sundry watched in jaw-dropping astonishment as a sudden cyclone of high-velocity wind gushed out from the tail-drill and washed past Dorulumon's head to fill the ravine. The crossbow bolts were caught up in it and were immediately tossed away in all directions like toothpicks, though one of them still managed to spiral downwards and bury itself in Dorulumon's shoulder. But the wolf's thick mane helped to cushion the blow and he barely reacted to it.

The tornado whooshed over the remaining forces like a flash-flood and hit them much harder than any ordinary wind would be able to. It felt like each of them had been slammed with a solid-brick wall, knocking many of them unconscious from the sheer impact alone. But the biggest result was the tornado almost literally scooped up over fifty of them in one swoop and hauled them bodily into the air, sending them in a spinning cycle straight up into the sky, crashing against one another. It simultaneously tossed several of the corpses of the already dead upwards as well, scattering bodies all over the place.

Those who were fortunate enough not to get hit by this attack either finally seemed to get the message and turned to run, trampling over one another in their haste to escape from the demon warg which had suddenly walked into their lives. The less fortunate ended up getting flung out of the top of the tornado once they finally reached its peak and fell, their battered bodies impacting with the ground all around and knocking the life out of most of them, though a few were carried so far they landed in the lake next to the ruined village.

Dorulumon nodded in satisfaction as his tail-drill returned to normal size. He hadn't really had the opportunity to witness the power of those people but he could tell that they were just as strong as the average Troopmon. This was admittedly not that strong compared to many other Digimon but it was still powerful by human standards. And he had just beaten a small horde of them, mostly without moving at all from his one spot.

Others were escaping, but Dorulumon decided just to let them go. Chasing after and hunting down survivors was their style, not his. More than likely they would return to be a plague on the land once more, but Dorulumon had protected these villagers now, and that was currently what mattered the most.

_How was that, Cutemon?_ He thought to himself. _I couldn't protect your village but I protected this one. Or at least its inhabitants._

He then turned around to face said villagers. Most of them were looking at him with expressions of fear or awe, though most often a mix of both. As he fixed his eyes on them, they quailed under his steady, calculating gaze, wilting back against the rock walls. They had seen just what he was capable of and knew escape was impossible. Many of them were scared enough to think he had fought all those Uruks to keep them for himself so he could eat them, despite Dorulumon's words to the Uruks previously.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Dorulumon told them straight before they could say anything. "I do not pick on those weaker than they are like your aggressors do. And before you say anything on the matter, I am _not_ a warg. I am a Digimon. There is a distinct difference. I am not sure exactly what that difference is, but I assure you it's there."

"You did it, Dolurumon!" cheered Freda. "You beat them all."

"It's Dorulumon, kid," the wolf chuckled. "And it was my pleasure. I have many reasons for wanting to beat up people like them."

"You will not harm us?" one of the women asked timidly.

"I just said that I wouldn't, didn't I?" Dorulumon sighed. "Sometimes I think you humans have hearing problems."

"What is a human?" asked an older looking man who was so infirm that he would definitely be dead if Dorulumon hadn't interfered.

"What is a…?" Dorulumon blinked. "Excuse me? You don't know what…?"

A short, sharp scream cut him off and his head snapped around to see a man and woman fall back as an Uruk-Hai leapt out of another ravine entrance and took a swing at them with its huge sword. Dorulumon cursed – of course there were more places for the Uruks to attack from. Some of them at the back had probably gotten impatient and tried to find another way in. He sprang forward, felling the Uruk with a swift Drill Buster to its guts, dropping it instantly. The villagers parted hurriedly to let him through and Dorulumon saw about a dozen Uruks and Wild Men dashing up through one ravine, and another five or so coming from yet another direction. Two appeared on top of the cliff walls, looking down on everyone.

"This is not the place to talk," Dorulumon yelled. "Get to safety! I will follow when I deal with these stragglers!"

The villagers didn't need telling twice and fled deeper into the rocky maze, Morwen running up beside Garulf and her children to guide them further in with everybody else. Dorulumon growled as he fired two more drills to slay the Wild Men up above before they could string the bows they had brought with them and turned to face the rest of them.

"I'll deal with you lot more closely," he growled, eyes on fire and pounced on the closest Wild Man, bringing it straight to the ground with a hefty clout to the head with one paw. An Uruk swung a sword at him but Dorulumon caught the blow on his drill-horn and knocked it aside, lashing back to slash across the Uruk's stomach with it a moment later. As it fell, gasping, Dorulumon smashed another aside with his tail-drill without looking and charged into the midst of four others.

It was an immediately bloodbath. Dorulumon pounded one into the ground under his bulk and seized another one's head in his large jaws, hoisting it into the air and flinging the already dead body aside. The other two tried to slash at him with their blades but Dorulumon's tail-drill arced over to catch one while he flung himself out of the way of the second, spinning about to fire a close-range Drill Buster straight into the stomach of the first and dashing around the other to ram it straight into the cliff wall with his shoulder, flattening it there and knocking him out.

Dorulumon was a warrior who never stopped moving. Two Wild Men charged at him with spears seeking to pierce him but the wolf Digimon knew how to get past those. He sprang into the air, and they raised them in an attempt to skewer him but Dorulumon had actually sprung for the wall and rebounded off it with all four paws until he was behind them, smacking them both aside before they could turn around. He was already running by the time they hit the floor, dashing straight past three Uruks to bull into another Wild Man head-first so hard he crumpled like paper and fell even without the fact he'd just been impaled on Dorulumon's horn.

The three Uruks turned to face him and one particularly bold one threw himself into the air to try and slash down at Dorulumon from above. Dorulumon rapidly fired a small whirlwind from his tail that crashed into the airborne Uruk and tossed it flying and turned as the other two bore down on him, trying to co-ordinate their attacks against him. He charged as they swung their swords at the same time, but Dorulumon flattened himself low to the ground and the Uruk's weapons clanged harmlessly off the large blades sticking out of the wolf's shoulders. Dorulumon kept moving and forced his way between them, ripping the weapons out of their hands as he seized one by the ankle in his jaws and battered the other's face in with his tail.

The Uruk in his jaws roared in agony as he was dragged along the ground but moments later Dorulumon heaved him into the air and tossed him straight into two Wild Men, knocking them into a boulder and sending all three into the world of unconsciousness.

Dorulumon then turned around to face the last two, who were quavering as they noticed they were the only ones left standing – one Uruk and one Wild Man. They had just watched this wold take out their comrades and he had no marks to show that he had been in a battle except for the broken arrow bolt in his shoulder.

Both of these last survivors had shields and they quickly brought them up defensively, the Wild Man jabbing threatening outwards with his spear and the Uruk snarling and flourishing his hefty blade, trying to appear intimidating. But Dorulumon was unmoved. He just stood there, staring at them with fiercely intense eyes. Unconsciously, the two of them were stepping backwards from the unmoving Digimon until they were backed up against the wall of the nearest small cliff.

Dorulumon sprang.

One second he was motionless and the next he was ten feet off the ground and sailing through the air. But he was not aiming for his opponents. Not directly anyway. He reformed the Drill Blader and span into motion in the air, slamming into the cliff wall above the two with incredible force before leaping away. The already eroded rock fractured and as Dorulumon landed in front of his foes a large portion of it poured downwards and thundered over the top of them, burying them alive until a blanket of stone and coming to rest a few inches from Dorulumon's toes.

The wolf said nothing for a moment, staring expressionlessly at the rock pile in front of him. When he did speak, it was to say, "Such is the fate of those who follow the path of darkness. Unless you have the sense to do what I did and change my allegiance. But you didn't have that sense, did you?"

He shook his head and turned to follow the direction the villagers had taken at a steady pace, reaching round and plucking the arrow from his shoulder with nothing more than a grunt at the awkward angle before biting it in to pieces and spitting out the middle one.

* * *

The surviving villagers, of which there was at least two-thirds of their original number – much more than there would have been without the intervention of Dorulumon – had run on for a full fifteen minutes before they stopped to catch their breath and listen to their surroundings. They could hear no sound of pursuit, nor indeed any sound of battle, but they were nevertheless wary.

Still, they were relieved too. They had escaped with their lives. Would that their mysterious saviour had come earlier before the rest of the village had perished, but that could not be helped. Those who had indeed lost loved ones wept, but the rest of them tried to remain strong, silently mourning their missing friends.

Morwen wasn't quite sure what to make of their current situation. Her husband had not been at the village at the time of the attack, so she had no way of knowing if he had not met an ugly fate elsewhere, but right now she had bigger concerns. Like her children.

"Éothain, Freda," she said, helping them both down from Garulf and giving them a hug.

"We're okay, Mama," Éothain said, with a grin. "And thank the stars you're okay too."

"You didn't do as I asked," Morwen said, though such was her relief she couldn't bring herself to sound scornful. "You came back."

"With help," Freda said through her sobs of happiness. "That funny wolf – Doluru… Dorrruu… Dollydo… well, he saved me when Garulf accidentally threw me off. When he heard our village was under attack he growled and told us to bring him back so he could help."

"Well, at least you are alright," Morwen said, hugging them both to her. "Thank heavens it was not a real warg."

"I am not a warg of any description," chuckled Dorulumon, causing everyone to look up sharply at where he had appeared over a ridge. "And my name is pronounced Do-roo-loo-mon, kid."

"Do-roo-loo-mon," Freda said dutifully.

"There you go," he said, and with a swift bound he had jumped off the ridge and landed smoothly beside them. Several of the other villagers still backed away, but many of them had got the message that he was not an enemy and held firm, albeit slightly nervously. They were not used to creatures like Dorulumon and he was still plenty intimidating even if he was friendly.

Morwen, however, was unconcerned. She straightened herself up and said straight, "Thank you. For saving my child. And for protecting us."

"The first was made necessary by myself," Dorulumon said. "I was the one who frightened the horse and caused it to throw her off in the first place. Nevertheless you are welcome." He smirked and said, "I couldn't turn my back on you."

Morwen nodded with a smile.

"If you are not a warg," said another villager. "Then what are you? You said that you were a Digimon? What exactly is that? I've never heard of them before."

"I didn't suspect that you would," Dorulumon replied, turning to face the group. "Nevertheless I shall give you a much abbreviated version and say that Digimon are creatures that come in a variety of forms and possess many diverse abilities and powers. Delving into any further details would be complicated and rather pointless. Now, if you don't mind, I happen to have some questions of my own, and now that I finally have an audience that isn't running away screaming or trying to spear me I will take the opportunity to ask them."

Dorulumon questioned the villagers closely and he was able to deduce a little from what they had to say. He learned that he was in a place called the Westfold, which was a region of a country called Rohan, which was in a land called Middle Earth. Dorulumon had never heard of any of those and the fact they had never heard of Digimon before was not encouraging. They had not seen any other strange creatures around since yesterday either, and he learned that Rohan was renowned for its warriors on their magnificent horses, which didn't surprise him at all considering what he had encountered so far.

"It seems that I have somehow found myself in a strange new world that I do not understand," Dorulumon surmised after he had finished his pseudo-interrogation. "That's quite troubling in itself, but I am given to understand that there also may be a war coming. Those creatures before mentioned something of a Wizard and a Dark Lord. Am I correct in assuming those are not friends of yours?"

"Yes," said a village elder. "We must warn the King of this at once. We heard that the White Wizard was mustering an army but we didn't believe it was really true. Now we find that it is, and there may be more raiding parties to come. There may even be more out there now. Somebody must go the Edoras and warn the King."

"Edoras is many leagues away," said another man. "It will take too long to walk there. Morwen, you are the only one with a horse. You must go."

Morwen bristled. "I will not abandon my children," she declared. "And we cannot all ride on one horse."

"Regardless of who goes," Dorulumon cleared his throat. "What course of action will everybody else take? You are right. There may be more raiding parties out there. The danger is not yet over."

"We should head for Helm's Deep," suggested someone. "It's a nigh-unbreachable fortress and its not that far from here. If we go now we may be there by tomorrow morning, or even tonight if we move quickly."

"Then you must make haste," Dorulumon nodded. "As to speaking with the King, I have a suggestion. I shall go too. I wish to speak with the King myself – to explain that I am, in fact, not a threat as his men seem to believe and to offer my help. If there is a war coming then regardless of what I want or not I must play my part in the fight. That is a part of being a member of Xros Heart and my own King would say the same. Perhaps the King can also help me find my friends. They will be of the same opinion as me and will volunteer to help against this Wizard straight away."

More accustomed to Dorulumon by this point, the villagers beamed. They had seen what just one of these Digimon was capable already. The thought of more of them helping against Saruman's army was a huge boost of hope to them. "That sounds ideal," said the village elder from before.

Dorulumon turned to Morwen. "You can ride on the horse and I will carry the children. I've carried children before back where I come from – I will not drop them. You will have to show me the way, and I may need your help in explaining myself to the soldiers. The rest of you head to this Helm's Deep place with all speed."

Morwen nodded, a little uncertainly. "That sounds… reasonable," she said.

"I assure you I am a very good mount," Dorulumon smirked, seeing where her mind was going.

"You'll really let us ride you?" Freda asked excitedly.

"If I must," the wolf looked down at her with a small grin. "Now, let's go."

* * *

No, the Morwen of this chapter is NOT the Morwen from the game "The Third Age." That is indeed the name of the woman from the films who sent her children away so they would be safe. Of course the outcome was rather different in this story, but this is one of the reasons why I put Dorulumon in Rohan besides the whole warg thing. He might be quite a loner sometimes, but Dorulumon does seem to have the amazing ability to befriend children and works well with them. Anyway, I hope you liked him doing some ass-kicking just as Sparrowmon did last chapter. They both have very different styles, don't they? Gihee.

TTFN!

* * *

Next time…

This will be the final chapter where a lot of the dialogue is taken straight out of the film, though a lot of it will be original as well. After discovering the fallen body of Théodred at the Fords of Isen, Éomer returns home swiftly, but he will not like what happens there in the slightest.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 18 : The Banishment of Éomer**


	18. The Banishment of Éomer

SOOO SORRY ABOUT THE LATENESS OF THIS CHAPTER!

But, in fact I have an excuse. I went on a trip down to Bristol to go to an open day at the University of the West of England that took up a lot of my time, I had a large presentation I needed to prepare for and do, but most importantly of all, when going over the plans for the next few chapters I noticed one very important thing that I had forgotten to take into account during the initial plan of this story – timescale. With characters all over the place I didn't really think about the length of time the story takes place over, so I spent a couple of days going over my plan and effectively making a big calendar about who would be where and what would be happening on each day this story takes place in.

And it's a good thing I did because according to my original chapter layout plan I would sometimes be writing about something which happened several days earlier or later than what I had written about in my last chapter with a different set of characters – my timescale was completely out of whack. But now they are in an order so that all the events of each day will be told together, no matter how many chapters it will take me to cover each day. Anyway, with that in mind, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 18:- The Banishment of Éomer**

* * *

The hooves of the horses pounded the ground with such fury that the soil beneath them was sent flying with each impact their feet made in the dirt, creating a spray behind them which made it seem like someone was cutting into the ground with a chainsaw, but the horses behind merely ploughed through the flying clods of earth, pressed on by their riders. There could be no waiting. This was as urgent as things could get.

At the head of the group rode Éomer, son of Éomund, of the House of Eorl, the nephew of the current King of Rohan, and the Chief Marshal of Rohan's Cavalry forces, known as Riders of Rohan. He was a tall, powerfully built man with long, straw-coloured hair as with most of the Rohirrim, which hung down from his domed steel helmet with a horse-hair plume falling down the back. He wore thick leather and mail armour and his tough but lean face had a smattering of facial hair around his mouth. And right now he was riding as if pursued by a bunch of hell-hounds, as were his company of men.

But he was not running from anything. He was running _to_ somewhere else. Spear in hand and sword sheathed at his side, Éomer was not about to stop for anything.

Éomer had been on patrol for a few days, moving across the western borders of Rohan to keep an eye out for potential threats. But, as he was making his way back towards Edoras with nothing found yesterday, his company had come across a wounded rider who was practically falling off his horse and had an arrow in his side. Naturally they had immediately rushed to his aid and taken him off his horse, demanding to know what had happened.

The man had gasped out his story between gulps of water. He had said that he had been a part of the company of Rohan which had been guarding the Fords of Isen, a shallow stretch of the river that across the northwest borders of Rohan and separated it from Isengard. That company of Rohirrim had been sent there by Éomer himself, as he had heard the rumours of the musterings that were taking place at Isengard and had been determined to protect his lands. So he had sent Théodred, the Second Marshal of the Mark, out with a large company of riders and archers while he and a large portion of his men had been patrolling in search of any Isengard forces who might have already entered their lands.

"There was an attack!" the man had choked as his side was remedially treated. "We were overwhelmed. Lord Théodred sent out scouts to watch Isengard and when they returned, they confirmed that there was indeed mustering, so Théodred headed out with a large company to try and take them by surprise. But it was a trap. The enemy had already left Isengard and split into groups. One bypassed Théodred's men and attacked the force he had left behind to guard the Ford while the others outflanked us and forced us to retreat. But we were then hit upon by those back at the Ford and we were overwhelmed. I managed to escape and was ordered back to alert someone but… it was all I could do to keep myself conscious."

Éomer had reacted immediately and sent a couple of men to take the wounded man back to Edoras and he and the rest of his force had hastened to the Fords of Isen with all speed. Éomer rode grim-faced the entire way, hoping against hope that they would still find their forces resisting the enemy when they got there, or better yet having won out the day. But the thought of his cousin, heir to the throne, being out there and sent into a slaughter by Éomer himself kept pounding at his mind.

He needed his cousin, whom his considered a brother, to be safe. Éomer had been raised in the court of his uncle, King Théoden, after his father had been slain by orcs and his mother had wasted away in grief only to die a few months later. Théodred was like his younger sibling, having been born when he was in his early teens. And Théodred was the heir to the throne. The only reason Éomer outranked him currently was due to his greater experience in the field and because Théoden had wanted to demonstrate a lack of favouritism between son and nephew, for one day the son would outrank the nephew, so the nephew could outrank the son until that day came.

If something happened to Théodred, that would make Éomer the heir to the throne, a position that he had never wanted beyond childish fantasies many years ago.

Rain began to fall from the sky as the sun began to set once again, but the group swept on in the fading light, unaware that back closer to Edoras, a large, orange wolf was currently sealing itself in a cave to throw off the pursuit of their fellow riders.

* * *

When they finally reached the Fords of Isen, Éomer's worst fears – but the fears that he had known in his subconscious to be reality all along – were confirmed. The place was a scene of devastation and reeked of death. Nobody had been spared the wrath of the orcs and if there were any survivors they were nowhere near the area. All that was here were the countless bodies of the dead. Man and Orc lay side by side with grievous wounds across each of them. The horses of the cavalry had not been spared either and lay sprawled on the ground, often on top of those who had been riding them. Arrows stuck out of many of the corpses and a steady flow of blood was seeping into the usually pristine ford.

"Théodred," Éomer breathed in horror, looking with pained eyes and a dull heart at the destruction wrought on the men and horses of Rohan, both of which were equally valued in the eyes of every Rohirrim Man. "Find the King's son!" he bellowed to the rest of the Men as he cast down his spear and dismounted, leaving his jittery horse where it stood and stepping out onto the stony bank amongst the corpses in search of the familiar younger face of his cousin.

The rest of the company followed suit, with throats tight. They were hardened warriors all, and each of them had seen the carnage of a battle before and were toughened to it, but that never exactly made it easy to do it again. Most everywhere they looked, one of them would spot a familiar face amongst the crowd of the dead, from distant acquaintances they had hardly spoken to, to close friends. And the smell of death was everywhere, despite the rain.

Often they had the task of flipping over a dead man in order to identify who it was, and sometimes when they came across a man with lesser wounds they would kneel down and check for any signs of life. Any breath, any heartbeat… but there was nothing. Some of the men waded into the ford to check the bodies in the water, or crossed to the other side to search through the equal number of corpses there.

They worked in relative silence, but as Éomer continued through the crowd of the deceased, he heard one of his men growl, "Mordor will pay for this."

Éomer's face twisted into a grimace as he approached the body of an Uruk-Hai – these giant orcs were new even to him. "These orcs are not from Mordor," he replied tersely, placing his boot on the orcs side and rolling it over so it was face-up, his head lolling. Clearly printed on his helmet was a large white hand-print. And even if Éomer had not heard the rumours, he would have been able to guess what that particular sign meant.

He knelt down and ungraciously removed the helmet from the Uruk's head. He could use this as evidence later on in his report to the King.

Just then, he was hailed from a short distance away. "My Lord Éomer," cried another man. "Over here!" Éomer looked up to see him kneeling over a body half in and half out of the water and immediately hurried over, hopping a little awkward around the bodies of the dead to join the man. His heart almost stopped when he saw it was indeed Théodred, lying on his side next to his dead horse and soaked to the skin.

Éomer gripped him by the arm and with the help of the other man, rolled him onto his back and propped him up slightly, causing Théodred's head to loll backwards as if it was hanging from his shoulders on a string. Éomer searched the man for injuries or any sign that a miracle had happened, but there was a hug cut from a sword across the right side of his face that ran from over his eye down past his ear.

Éomer feared the worst and almost hung his head. But then he spotted the small cloud of steam puffing thinly from Théodred's mouth. Warm breath being expelled into the cold air.

"He's alive," he gasped.

* * *

After that, everything had moved pretty quickly. While a number of the patrol had been left behind to continue searching for any other survivors amongst the battle carnage, Éomer had swiftly taken the rest back to Edoras, hoisting the critically injured and barely breathing Théodred up onto his horse to ride before him. They didn't have the supplies to deal with these injuries out in the field, so it was vital to get the King's son to the healers who knew what they were doing back at the capital city.

The trip back was rushed, with Éomer and his men pushing the horses as fast as they dared. Unfortunately they did not go as fast as they could have done, for they did not want to risk any further damage to the wounded prince, but nor could they afford to take their time. Théodred did not seem to be long for this world and so they swiftly and desperately journeyed across the plains, riding through the night.

Such was their pace that the Sun had already risen and had practically reached its zenith in the sky by the time they finally reached their destination. The journey had been cumbersome at best, for Théodred had remained obstinately unconscious throughout the journey and lolled in his unsecured seat against Éomer, who had to occasionally stop and make sure that the prince did not fall off and cause further damage to himself.

But finally the city had loomed up in the distance, it's high wooden walls and ramparts providing a welcome sight for Éomer, but not one of relief. They might have arrived but the prince was still barely breathing and had not awoken. His wounds, including the one on his face, had stopped bleeding, but each had formed a large and thickly crusted scab mark which looked ugly on what had previously been quite a handsome face.

Éomer wasted no time. He noticed as he rode through the gates while they were still opening, that the city seemed to be all of a flutter, with the citizens out in their droves and huddling together as they whispered and discussed something with nervous looking eyes, which Éomer noticed as strange. And as he progressed swiftly up the winding hill to the Golden Hall of Meduseld at its peak, he faintly registered what looked like a gaping hole in the wall of one of the houses.

But he pushed it from it his mind. In fact, he barely noticed it at all. The only thing that mattered right now was the safety of his cousin.

No questions were asked Éomer rode up to the entrance of the hall with his men in tow. The guards, led by Háma the doorwarden, rushed forward to help, gently pulling the injured Théodred down from his position on the horse and hurrying him inside towards prince's private chambers, with Éomer bounding off his horse after them and yelling at some of his men to either stable his horse or find a healer before barrelling after them to ensure they were careful with his fallen family member.

Théodred was gently lain upon the pillows and covers of his own bed, and the activity seemed to be making him stir slightly, though he did not open his eyes or really do anything beyond moan slightly or shift a few inches.

* * *

The word of the prince's arrival and injuries spread into the town like wildfire, and it did not take very long for the news to reach one particular woman. This woman was Éomer's younger sister, which made her also the cousin of the prince and the niece of King Théoden and her name was Éowyn. She was considered a very beautiful woman by everyone of the city, with long golden hair and surprisingly bright grey eyes. She was usually seen in long dresses befitting of a King's niece and her pale complexion had led her to be dubbed, "The White Lady of Rohan" by many people.

When the news of her cousin's condition reached Éowyn, she had been out in the streets, trying to help out some of the locals in any way she could as she usually did. She was never one afraid to get her hands dirty despite her higher status and she had formed close relationships with many of the women of the city, and almost as many of the men. She was dearly loved by all and one of the most trusted people in the country.

At the exact point when she received the word of what had happened, she was comforting one rather elderly lady who was one of many that were still nervous and jumpy at the events of the previous day.

"You have nothing more to fear," she was saying, patting the woman's hand. "The strange beast, that odd warg or whatever it might have been, has been driven from the city and is being hunted by the best of the Rohirrim as we speak. It will not bother us again, you have my word on that."

"But milady," the nervous reply had come. "How could it have managed to get into the city past our defences and the walls without being seen at all? I heard that it had managed to get into the pantry of a house without being spotted. Who's to say it won't happen again?"

"We don't yet know, that much is true," Éowyn said soothingly. "But we shall find the breach in our defences and it will be sealed. Nothing like this will happen again, I promise. I am sure that when the Riders of Rohan return, they will do so with the news that the wolf has perished at their hands."

"Milady!" had come a shout, accompanied by the sound of hooves, and Éowyn had turned to see one of the King's other Marshals of the Mark – a man called Grimbold, coming towards her atop his white horse. "Have you not heard the news? Your brother has returned to Edoras bearing the prince and your cousin, who has been gravely wounded in battle at the Fords of Isen."

Éowyn's heart has stopped. She too had been very close to Théodred, though perhaps not as close as Éomer. She herself had spent far more time with the King himself, Théoden, helping to care for the aging man during her youth after the death of her parents, but she had always been close to his son too, playing with him as a child and often watched her brother and cousin sparring with one another and many times wishing that she could join in.

She spent no time asking questions of Grimbold and immediately hurried back towards the Golden Hall, ascending the stairs swiftly and rushing through the main doors, unimpeded by the guards who all knew her face well. It was mere minutes before she found herself at Théodred's door, pushing it open.

Éomer, who was sitting at the side of the bed, looked up at her entrance, but Éowyn quickly hurried over and knelt beside her brother. "Théodred," she breathed lightly, unable to keep the horror out of her voice as she beheld the prince's injuries. Théodred exhaled slightly and shifted but made no further indication that he realised she was there. The wound on his face was partially covered by a cloth, and Éowyn leaned over to gently lift it and paled even further when she saw how bad it was.

She shut her eyes and almost slumped backwards. She had a large amount of skill at healing and could easily tell just how severe these injuries were. Théodred would be lucky to survive and both she and Éomer knew it, for Éomer had been in enough battles to recognise who was done for and who had a good chance of living.

Brother and sister looked at one another, both of them thinking the same thing:-

_How had it come to this?_

As a healer bustled into the room, Éowyn began helping out in any way that she could, heating up some water and applying wet towels to Théodred's forehead and helping to try and clean and bandage the various wounds, of which there were many. Éomer helped to take Théodred out a large portion of his armour, which was only getting in the way now, steadying him as everything was carefully removed, leaving him in the clothes he had beneath, but other than that Éomer stayed out of the way and watched anxiously.

"Come back to us, Théodred," Éowyn kept murmuring as she applied more fresh bandages. "Please, come back to us."

"Théodred has always been strong," Éomer assured her gently, placing a steady hand on his sister's shoulder. "I am sure that he will pull through this with your help, Éowyn. He shall be back on his feet and ready to lead out another force within two weeks."

"Let us pray," Éowyn said, with a sigh, placing another cloth into the bowl of water nearby.

"And hope," Éomer agreed, but after that, neither of them said anything for a while. Both of them knew that Éomer's words were, for the moment, hollow. Théodred's life was hanging in the balance and neither of them could tell what would become of him. Perhaps he would indeed pull through, but right now the chances of that happening seemed very slim indeed.

But as there was little they could currently do for him, that meant that they now had to go and report this to the King. And neither of them were particularly looking forward to that. And not only because it was bad news.

Éowyn eventually stood up and turned to embrace her brother, armour and all, placing her forehead against his chest. Éomer returned the gesture. The two of them were close though they didn't normally display affection for one another like this, though the fact that their cousin was on his deathbed was more than enough cause for it, as Éowyn sought further comfort from her sturdier sibling.

Éomer held her for about a minute, trying to tell her without words that it was going to be okay, but his own worries made it difficult for him to get that across.

Eventually the two of them broke apart and Éowyn left the room, moving towards the throne room where the King would be sitting on his throne. Éomer took one last look at Théodred, his face twisting into a grimace. Regardless of Théodred's eventual fate, the orcs of the mountains had gone way too far with this and Éomer fully intended to make his uncle finally see that some action would be required.

But despite the fact the King's son was lying near death, that would probably be far easier said than done.

Éomer turned and strode out after his sister, following her to the throne room. When he got there, he found her kneeling beside the throne, her hand placed over the gnarled hand of King Théoden and looking up imploringly into his face.

Éomer felt his chest tighten as he saw the state of his dear uncle, who had been a part of his life for so long now. Théoden, son of Thengel, was the seventheen King of Rohan and had been King for over forty years now. He himself was actually sixty-seven years old and during his time as King he had always been strong and proud, upstanding and preparing to do whatever was necessary to protect the people from any threat, outside and inside, just as a proper King should. He had been very popular amongst the people. As his age had increased he had become more tired, but he had never lost the strength of his resolve and his body had remained sturdy and strong for the most part too.

Until recently, that is.

The man who sat in the throne now looked but a shell of the father-figure that Éomer had looked up to for years. His crown was about the only part of him that still looked regal, laying neatly on his forehead as if it had been moulded specifically for it. But everything else about him looked broken and decrepit. His clothes, which were ragged and bulky woollen garments that didn't look right on a King, also didn't look like they'd been washed for some time, as Théoden hardly seemed to get off his throne anymore.

His beard, which had had always kept in a relatively short and neat trim around his mouth and chin now extended all around his face and hung down to his chest in unkempt scraggly lines. His hair was no better. Where it had once neatly fallen down either side of his face it now resembled some sort of scraggly mop hanging down the back of his head. His face, which had been rather firm even in his old age was now as wrinkled as a dried fruit and a ghastly pale colour that made him look like death itself.

But that was not the most alarming part. The most alarming part was his eyes. They had once been proud and piercing, but now they were sunken and dull, pulled back so far into his face it almost literally looked like a skull underneath his overgrown eyebrows and the red rings around each eyeball. All those eyes ever seemed to do these days was just stare out blankly ahead of him and Théoden barely seemed to hear what most anyone was saying to him anymore.

He just sat there, looking only semi-conscious and dead to the world.

Nothing at all like a King should be.

And nothing at all like _Théoden_ should be.

Every time Éomer saw him like this his stomach just flipped and his mind screamed at him that this was _wrong_. This was _not_ the man he knew. He had not been anything like this at this point in time a couple of years ago, or even just _one_ year ago.

Éomer grimaced again and stepped further into the room, moving up in front of the King as Éowyn said, "Your son is badly wounded, my lord," gently to him.

"He was ambushed," Éomer confirmed gravely, his face hard and set in lines. "By orcs."

A normal parent would have been horrified by this news… possibly leapt out of the chair and rushing off, demanding to see their child. Théoden should have been no exception. His wife, Elfhild, had died in childbirth and Théodred was his only child. Had this happened a year ago Théoden would have been at his son's bedside already by now.

But now he just sat there, staring blankly and dead ahead of him. If he even heard the words he gave no indication of it. If it wasn't for the fact that his mouth twitched occasionally you might have thought he'd died right there on his throne.

Éomer spoke again, this time harder, trying to make his message get through into the King's head. "If we don't defend our country… Saruman will take it by force."

"That is a lie," said another voice almost immediately, a voice which made Éomer's throat constrict and his eyes blaze, as a figure slunk out from a concealed door behind the throne. Éomer wondered if he had been there all along for this was the man that he had come to loathe most throughout all of Rohan, or indeed the world – the King's personal adviser, Gríma. He was not the only one to have such feelings towards him either, and many had started referring to him as Wormtongue, a name which had now stuck with him as if it was his surname.

Éomer didn't know much about Wormtongue really. He didn't even know where he had come from or even how had gotten into Théoden's employ, as he had been away on a long patrol when it had happened last year, but Wormtongue could almost always be found at the King's side whispering things into his ear. Éomer was convinced that Wormtongue had something to do with the King's current state, but he no evidence to prove it, nor anyone to take it up with as the only one who could do something about the Royal Advisor was the King himself.

Wormtongue was relatively short compared to most Rohirrim men, with black greasy hair and a face almost as sunken and pale as the King's but nowhere near as dilapidated. He usually wore long black robes that made him look like some kind of wraith emerging from the shadows and the way he walked around as if he was constantly trying to slink into somebody's private business had made Éomer distrust him on the spot. And his voice, that thing which had given him the name Wormtongue, was oily and slick and often slightly smug, as if everything that Wormtongue said could only be true.

That voice was still talking as Wormtongue deliberately stated, "Saruman the White has ever been our friends _and_ ally," as he knelt down beside the King.

Éomer's nostrils flared, but the thing that _really_ got under his skin about this was not only the fact Wormtongue was denying the allegations that Saruman had joined Sauron, but that Théoden was acknowledging his presence while ignoring that of his niece and nephew.

"Gríma," Théoden mumbled in a voice that was so quite he could barely be heard, his head shifting and eyes rolling to focus blearily on Wormtongue's face. "Gríma… nnghsm… Gríma."

That was all the King seemed to be capable of doing. Éomer had to resist the urge to growl as he harshly stated, "Orcs are roaming freely across our lands! Unchecked! Unchallenged! Killing at will!" He then turned and fixed Wormtongue's eye with his own, giving him a glare of deep defiance as he finished with, "Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman!"

With a flick of his wrist, Éomer tossed the Uruk helmet he'd taken from the battlefield down in front of the throne. It clanged as it hit the floor and rolled onto its front, so that the bright white hand symbol was clearly visible. This was Éomer's undeniable proof that Saruman had to be involved, and his expression told Wormtongue that there was no way that he could possibly convince him otherwise.

Wormtongue seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, looking down at the symbol, but the King gave no sign that he even knew the helmet was there. Éomer glared at the advisor, and Éowyn, who had not moved from her position by the King, looked briefly from one to the other. She held no more love for Wormtongue than her brother, but she had a far more personal reason to dislike him, though that reason also increased Éomer's hatred tenfold.

It seemed that Éomer's triumph would be relatively short-lived though. Though the King didn't seem to notice the proof in front of his face, Wormtongue immediately changed tack and gave Éomer what seemed to be a very dispproving stare. "Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" he asked him, turning back to look at the King. "Can you not see? Your Uncle is wearied by your…" he turned his head back to give Éomer a dark look through one eye. "…malcontent," he finished. "Your warmongering."

Éomer could barely believe his ears but despite Wormtongue's sullying words he was not fooled. Both this accusation and the denial previously would lead to the same event if Éomer stepped down – inaction. "Warmongering?" he snorted. "You would call protecting innocent lives and our own soldiers from the likes of those foul orcs warmongering, Gríma? I would call it practical self-defence. Call it what you will but the fact remains that if we do nothing then the orcs which are plaguing our borders will spread further in. I can guarantee that they have already done so – they would not merely turn back after a victory at the border. Regardless of who they work for," he added pointedly.

"Your words are noble," Wormtongue relented. "But your desires are filled with personal want. Perhaps it is revenge which you desire most, over the tragic wounding of your dear cousin. But the battle in which he sustained injury has passed. You would lead other forces out into unnecessary danger as a result of your emotional needs."

"You speak well, Worm," Éomer growled. "But I would gladly risk my own life alone if I believed that I could bring protection to our lands with only myself on the battlefield. But as that would be impossible, I would take others to assist me in ensuring the security of us all."

"Your claim that you would take the field alone merely proves your restlessness. Your mind is wrapped in the covers of bloodlust and your eyes do not pierce beyond the dreams that cluster within it. Think you not of your Uncle?"

"I think more of my Uncle that you, poisonous one," Éomer retorted. "Were he in his right mind he would not be in that chair now but by the side of his beloved son, yet he sits like a pumpkin awaiting the harvest wrapped up in your personal net."

"Accusations are but the tools of a man clouded with anger," Wormtongue's voice seemed to be oozing sliminess. "You would blame the King's condition on I, who have always striven to care for his needs? Your allegations merely verify your desire for action. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword as I speak," he added smugly. Éomer looked down and grimaced when he saw that Wormtongue was right – he had been subconsciously thinking about unsheathing the blade and running the oily man through.

"Rested minds are the bearers of wisdom and judgement," Wormtongue went on. "Retire your mind to the pillow, Éomer, for you have surely ridden through the night to bring your cousin to safety. Perhaps sense shall well up during your slumber."

Éowyn had taken no further part in this conversation, but she was looking at the King, trying to gauge if he was having any reaction whatsoever, but there was none. The King just sat there. Unless Wormtongue was addressing him directly he seemed deaf to all around him. She looked up at Éomer and shook her head and Éomer knew what she meant. He was not about to get the approval for defensive plans that were now necessary from the King.

But as Éomer left the throne room, he was more convinced that ever that Wormtongue was a spy in the court. There could be no other explanation for the deterioration of his Uncle's health ever since his sudden appearance. And Éomer was determined to call him on it. As long as there was a threat to Rohan and its people, he could not sit idly by. As First Marshal, it was his job to keep the order in the absence of the King, but the King was right here. Only he seemed elsewhere in mind.

* * *

Éomer was not prepared to let the matter rest, and so made his way into another chamber that was on its way to Wormtongue's personal lodgings and placed himself behind a pillar, waiting for the Worm to make his way through. It did not take long for this to occur, and Éomer heard the swishing of his robes against the floor as he crept stealthily along. Wormtongue always crept around regardless of who else was there or his intent, but as Éomer thought his intent was never in Rohan's interests, this did not surprise him.

Éomer stepped around the pillar when Wormtongue passed it and seized him by the front of his robes, eliciting a squawk from the surprised advisor. The much larger and heavier Éomer slammed the skinny man's back against the pillar and pinned him there, his angry face and blazing eyes inches from Gríma's own, which were suddenly fearful in the face of Éomer's ire.

"How long is it since Saruman bought you?" Éomer demanded, right off the bat. Wormtongue looked alarmed, like he was about to protest, but Éomer shoved him harder against the pillar, pressing on his ribcage with one arm and making it difficult for him to breathe. "What was the promised price, Gríma? When all the men are dead you will take your share of the treasure?"

For once, Wormtongue seemed to have been caught flat-footed by this sudden display of extreme aggression but before he could reply the sound of footsteps made both of them turn their heads. Éowyn was walking past, on her way back to Théodred's chambers, and the niece of the King paused to look at them when she what was going on.

A rather benign expression passed over Wormtongue's face, an expression that almost seemed to be one of longing. Ever since his arrival, Wormtongue had developed a fascination with Éowyn, which had not gone unnoticed by either her or her brother, of indeed their cousin. He was clearly enamoured with her, but the fact that his face also contained trace elements of desire, especially in his eyes, did not help matters for him.

Éowyn looked like she was trying to suppress a shudder as she simply turned around and walked on, ignoring Wormtongue's plight. Wormtongue watched her leave and Éomer noticed his eyes straying down towards a place he did _not_ want this greasy man to be looking at. He responded immediately by seizing his face in one hand so hard his fingers squashed his cheeks and jerking his head up to face him again, baring his teeth to clearly show his displeasure.

"Too long have you watched my sister," he growled. "Too long have you haunted her steps."

His accusation was a correct one. While it was far from uncommon for a man or woman to throw surreptitious glances at someone that they were interested in, Wormtongue's behaviour around Éowyn could hardly be considered appropriate. He would often wait in the shadows outside her chambers for her to come out in the mornings and his eyes would often zero in on certain anatomical features which made Éomer want to punch the living daylights out of him.

Plus, there was the fact that neither of them liked or trusted this man. Nor did Théodred, as a matter of fact. He was the epitome of sliminess and the thought of his interest repulsed all three of them. Particularly since he seemed to look at her as if she were a possession than a person. It made Éowyn feel ill. And her brother and cousin were never that far behind.

But as Wormtongue looked back at Éomer, his squashed mouth seemed to curve into a slight smirk as his eyes flicked over each of Éomer's shoulders. Éomer froze as a pair of guards seemed to loom out of nowhere and place firm hands on each of his shoulders. One of them grabbed the arm of the hand holding Wormtongue's face and tugged, giving a clear indication to let go. Éomer reluctantly took his hand away as if he had to prize it loose from his victim and he stepped back, the guard's hands still firmly on his shoulders.

Wormtongue's eyes seemed to take on a malicious edge as he sneered, "You see much, Éomer, son of Éomund." He stepped away from the pillar and leaned forwards slightly to add. "Too much."

Suddenly one of the guards slammed a fist into Éomer's gut beneath his armour. Éomer, completely not expecting this, yelled and doubled over, as the guards tried to get a firmer grip on him. But Éomer immediately started struggling and growling like a wild animal, trying to prize himself loose from their grip, thrashing and jerking as the three of them wrestled for control amongst themselves.

Éomer was a powerfully built man, one of the most powerfully built in all of Rohan which was one of the reasons why he made such a great First Marshal. But the guards were strong too, and it for a couple of moments it seemed like a stalemate as they grappled.

Until Éomer heard what Wormtongue had to say next.

"You are banished forthwith from the Kingdom of Rohan and all its domains. Under pain of death!"

Éomer snarled and almost wrenched himself free of his handlers. "You have no authority here!" he roared. "Your orders mean nothing!" But a moment later he yelled and doubled back over after he received another slam in his stomach from the same guard.

And Wormtongue no longer bothered to hide the smirk, either on his voice or on his face. "Oh this order does not come from me," he sneered. "It comes from the King." Éomer's head shot up as he stared at Wormtongue disbelievingly, but before he could protest any further Wormtongue had produced a roll of parchment from within his robes and unfurled it with a flourish so Éomer could see the declaration of banishment upon it.

"He signed it this morning," Wormtongue finished smugly, indicating the blotted scribble at the bottom of the parchment which was unrecognisable as anything except a mess, but Éomer could tell that it had been made by the King's hand. In his weak and pathetic state, it looked like King Théoden had attempted to slowly draw something that might have been articulate, but then given up a few seconds later and let his arm go slack to produce anything more than a squiggly smudge.

But it was enough to prove that Éomer's banishment was genuine.

And Éomer was willing to bet that Wormtongue himself had asked the King to sign it, using his sticky words to convince the barely-lucid King that it was all for the best and the King had only been too happy to indulge his advisor. He felt rage building up within his chest as the full weight of what Wormtongue was saying slammed into him and with a roar he attempted to lunge at Wormtongue, only to be hauled away by the two guards. Wormtongue followed, barely keeping his triumph from showing on his face.

The guards dragged Éomer back through the throne room and the King continued to sit there and ignore the frenzied cries of his nephew before they reached the front doors and flung them open, hauling Éomer outside them and tossing him away. Éomer managed to catch himself and prevent an undignified fall onto his face before he reached the stone steps that led to the hall. He whirled about, his hand flying to his sword as he envisioned running the treacherous little man through on the spot. But the guards standing on either side of the advisor and his own sense of judgement told him that would be a bad idea.

"You must think you have won, Gríma," Éomer growled, straightening his shoulder armour roughly. "The First Marshal of the Mark banished and the Second Marshal wounded near to death. Surely your master, Saruman, will be able to walk all over Rohan as he pleases now. Is that what you think?"

"The White Wizard has always been on our side during conflict. What cause would he have to send orcs into our beloved country? He was entrusted with the fortress of Isengard by an old Steward of Gondor many years ago. Would you state that the Steward's faith was misplaced?"

"Even the purest of men can be tempted by the darkness," Éomer replied bitterly. "And that includes Saruman."

"Your iron-shod beliefs cannot be swayed, I see," Wormtongue shook his head. "A pity. Perhaps I could have convinced the King to relent on his decision of banishment but as long as you hold such views in your mind's eye his decision will remain the same."

"You mean _your_ decision, vile creature," Éomer snorted.

"The King's decision always take precedence over my humble opinion," Wormtongue retorted. "Surely you know this to be true, former First Marshal of the Mark. But _your_ opinion, on the other hand, is no longer relevant. According to the declaration, you have until nightfall to leave the city. After that, you are to continue riding until you cross over Rohan's borders, though you may choose which direction you head in. But once crossed, you are never to cross back into this country, for if you do so, you shall be sentenced to execution."

Out the corner of his eye, Éomer could see the doorwarden Háma and the leader of the guards of Meduseld Gamling, looking guilty, angry and overall thoroughly displeased with what was happening right in front of their eyes. Yet Éomer knew they were powerless to stop it. Even with the King in his state, his word was final and he _had_ given his signature. Éomer had no choice now but to leave and never return.

Éomer felt a bitter twist in his stomach. Surely the Worm could not win this day. Not the day his cousin was brought back on his death-bed?

"You listen well, Leech of Saruman," Éomer stepped closer, causing the guards to step up beside him warningly. "You may banish me and claim it was the decision of the King, but the men of Rohan will never stand back and watch Saruman and his forces stamp over their lands and blot out the livelihoods of their families. Saruman has not triumphed yet. Not while there is spirit left in the Riddermark."

"Oh," Wormtongue leered. "Did I forget to mention it? By this self-same decree," he lifted up the piece of parchment clearly for Éomer to see once more, "You are not the only one to be banished, former Lord Éomer. This declaration also states that all the men under your personal command are to join you in banishment, with the same sentence and the same punishment should they disobey."

Éomer's eyes almost flew out of his head at Wormtongue's words. "No," he breathed. "The King would surely not…" he faltered and stopped before he finished the sentence. Of course the King would agree to such a thing if Wormtongue had been the one to suggest it. Had he been in his right state of mind he would never have ordered such a thing within thousands of years. But he was _not_ in his right state of mind.

Éomer had good cause for distress at this point. As First Marshal, he was in command of an enormous portion of the Riddermark's militia – just around two-thousand men. While Rohan had many smaller colonies with large numbers of soldiers, which would, if brought together, dwarf that number, two-thousand was still a huge chunk out of the forces of the Riders. And it was the two-thousand soldiers which took the most active role in the preservation and defence of Rohan that were now sentenced to exile too.

He could not believe what he was hearing. Had he alone been banished that he was sure that his men would never have rested or allowed Isengard to do as it pleased, but now… with all of them banished… technically they had no allegiance to Rohan anymore. That allegiance had just been severed.

This could not be happening!

"I reiterate," Wormtongue said. "You have until nightfall to be on your way – you and all of your Riders. The King must obviously feel that your desire for battle will be the undoing of this great country. It would be better for all if you were on your way before you could unnecessarily cause further harm or distress to the people, or before your nefarious insults offend the White Wizard. Furthermore, you are forbidden from entering the Hall of Meduseld again even now. Now fulfil the King's final wish for you and be on your way, son of Éomund."

And with one final sneer of triumph, Wormtongue turned and slunk back through the doors. The two guards who had thrown Éomer outside looked at him apologetically. Evidently they were no more pleased with this event than Éomer himself, but they too were obligated to carry out the wishes and orders of the King, even if that order could only be verified by a barely recognisable splash of ink. But then the two of them stepped back and closed to door behind them, allowing Éomer one last look at the King sitting on his throne and staring blankly through him.

"Uncle!" Éomer cried, but the doors slammed shut and cut off his view. Éomer turned around and slammed his hand against a nearby pillar. How could this have happened? How could that slimy Worm have gotten the better of him this way? It could surely not end like this!

Háma and Gamling approached from where they had been standing beside the door. "I am sorry, Éomer," Gamling said. "I wish it had not come to this. I was there when the King signed the declaration. I attempted to reason with him, but as you know he has been beyond reason recently. I do not think that he heard my protests."

"I know the feeling," Éomer said bitterly. "How could it have come to this? How could our country have become so weak in the course of a year? How could this have happened?"

"I cannot answer that," Gamling replied sadly. "But for what it is worth, I agree with you. This must surely be the work of Saruman. Somehow he has managed to influence the King in this way. We all know that he has skills in manipulating other people with his voice alone. He is a powerful adversary."

"It would be wise for you to have care how you speak now, Gamling," Éomer grunted. "Lest the parasite within decide that the King might be better off without his guards as well." He turned to fix his eye with Gamling's and said, "No matter what happens though, do me a personal favour. Protect the King and Rohan as best you can, even if you cannot take to the field yourselves, make sure that the enemy do not take the life of the King. Any more than they already have, that is."

"It is a promise," Gamling nodded.

Éomer slumped his back against a pillar and covered his eyes with a hand, sighing into his palm. Though Gamling had promised there was very little that Théoden's personal guard could do but wait until the enemy broke into Edoras before they could do anything about them and then they would only be outnumbered. Were things truly this hopeless?

It seemed that Saruman's victory over Rohan was assured already.

"Well," Éomer sighed. "I suppose I better gather my men and… make ready for my… permanent departure."

"My Lord Éomer," interrupted Háma before he could move off. "I'm afraid that they're not all here at the moment. Many of the men you left behind when you went on patrol are no longer in Edoras."

Éomer frowned. "Then where are they?"

"They left yesterday," Gamling explained. "Though we guess that it won't be much longer before they do return. It… might not be the best time to bring this up considering the… the circumstances. But they were actually out pursuing an interloper that must have surely entered Edoras via means of sorcery."

"An interloper?" Éomer repeated, eyes narrowing. "What kind of interloper?"

"We think it was some king of warg," Háma continued. "But it was like no warg that we have ever seen before. We think that it must surely have been altered via the magical means that Saruman has at his disposal."

"That does not surprise me," Éomer shook his head. "The bodies of the orcs that I found at the Fords of Isen were unlike any orc I had seen before either. They were taller and broader, more muscular and definitely stronger looking. Saruman was clearly experimenting on improving his army, so it would not surprise me at all if he had started doing the same process with his wargs. What did it look like?"

"Bizarre," Gamling stated. "There is no other way to describe it in just one word, I fear. It was the same size as a normal warg but it had a number of strange differences. It's fur was a bright orange, of all colours, and it appeared to have two large spikes of metal jutting out of its shoulders and a third on its chest. Not to mention the yellow horn it had in the middle of its forehead and the incredibly big spike on the end of its long tail."

"And I think that there were actually more of those yellow spikes on its back legs," through in Háma. "And two of its teeth with really long, like curved knives. It spoke too, though I have heard that there are a few wargs that are capable of speech anyway, though they may just be rumours."

"I have certainly never come across a Warg that could speak the Common Tongue," Gamling agreed. "Or perhaps I have, but they didn't use it while I was there. But this one definitely spoke. In an oddly eloquent way actually."

"An unusual description," Éomer agreed. "Very unusual. I believe that you are right – this can only be the work of Black Sorcery if your description is accurate. Never have I heard tales of such a warg before. But how did it get into the city?"

"We don't know," Gamling shrugged. "It was discovered in the pantry of one of the civilian houses. A pantry which had apparently been locked and had no sign of a break-in when we checked it outwards, though there is now a large hole in the building where the warg tore its way out later on. It was almost as if it materialised inside the pantry. We suspect more sorcery was involved in that too. It then led many of the Riders a merry chase through the city until it reached the main gates."

"We received reports that the warg was able to halt the closing of the gates long enough for it to escape by shooting its horn out of its forehead like an arrow at the men manning the winch, only for it to grow a new one instantly and shoot that too and so on," Háma concluded. "It was able to slip through the gates just before they closed and our Riders were hampered from pursuing until they were opened again. Many of your men gave chase and we have not heard from them since."

Éomer grimaced. He had faith that his Riders could not all be taken out by a single Warg, regardless of how strange it was or what bizarre techniques it might have at its disposal, but the news was still unsettling. If Saruman was behind this attack, and Éomer could see no other explanation, then that meant he was growing bolder and more aggressive with his assaults. How long before another of these strange creations of his appeared in the middle of the throne room, ready to slaughter the King?

However, the situation was now out of Éomer's hands… and presumably would be until it was all over. His first instinct was to set out himself immediately and hunt down this strange warg and slay it before it could harm anyone else. If it could speak, maybe he might have been able to ask it some questions. But that was no longer within his power. By flimsy order of his own Uncle, he was now forced to leave Edoras forever, as well as Rohan itself.

Perhaps he would encounter it on the way to wherever he was going.

But even if he did, what would he do? Any information he gleaned from it would be useless unless he could go back and use it, which he couldn't.

Éomer couldn't believe just how much the Worm had gotten the better of him.

"I thank you for the information," Éomer said. "But I am sorry to say that there is little that I can do with it now. Should this warg creation of Saruman's show its fangs again then it will be up to you to deal with it. It would seem that Rohan is no longer my home, and I fear that I can do nothing more to aid it. I tried, but I have failed. I have lost to the Worm. But I do have one last request, for both of you."

"You shall have it," Háma promised.

"Look out for my sister," Éomer said. "It must hardly had escaped your notice that Gríma seems to be interested in her. I fear that with me gone, Théodred injured and the King unable to act that he might try something with her. Éowyn is strong and can probably handle herself, but if you see Wormtongue start to cross any lines… then I don't care if he's the King's advisor or not. Stop him. My sister must not be sullied by that abhorrent little man."

"Consider it done," Gamling nodded.

Éomer sighed and held out his hand, firmly gripping and shaking the arms of both of them, before he turned and, for what he thought might be the last time, descended the steps of the Golden Hall and into the city.

* * *

It did not take very long for news of the King's apparent verdict to reach the rest of the Riders who were still within the city walls, of which there were well over a thousand, and more were filtering in from their various patrols all the time, including those that Éomer had left at the Fords of Isen to rifle through the bodies to find any more wounded men – they had found nobody else alive.

Needless to say, the reactions were varied. There was outrage, with many of them screaming for Wormtongue's head or liver, or both. There was despair – a lot of the Riders had family members after all, including wives, sons and daughters. Those families were _not_ banished from Rohan and they would not be able or allowed to follow after their husbands and parents, meaning that they would never be able to be a complete family again with this new decree. Not to mention the despair that there was now nothing that they could do for Rohan.

There was even some resignation, as if many of them had thought that this was going to happen for some time, and now that time was finally here.

The stronger advocates for retribution against Wormtongue had to be put down by Éomer. He did not know what future remained for them or for Rohan now, but while he might lose his hope, he would not lose his loyalty to his Uncle. He would carry out this final order on his Uncle's part, even if it was hardly done without his mind being clear.

But there was a part of Éomer that was slightly angry with his Uncle too.

That part of him was thinking along treacherous lines that Éomer would never admit that he was thinking, even to himself. It was a certain amount of resentment at the fact that Théoden would allow someone like Gríma to come into his life and start dictating most of his decisions and the way he seemed to remain totally oblivious to pretty much anything, most notably the suffering of the people or the presence and troubles of his own kin.

It seemed things would be well and truly lost after all.

* * *

Éomer was in the stables prepping his horse for his departure, as were many of the men, saddling up supplies and provisions for the long journey which they knew lay ahead of them. Any of the others were saying goodbye to their families and trying to spend some time with them before they were all forced to leave as the sun went down.

Éomer wondered briefly if he should just storm back up into the House of Meduseld right now and just run Gríma through. But he decided against it, largely because it would not solve anything. Wormtongue had the King wrapped around his finger, and he was the only one the King ever seemed to acknowledge in the state that he had been put in. But he doubted Wormtongue alone could have done this. Saruman must have been involved in the King's degradation too.

That meant that even if Éomer slew Wormtongue, the condition that had been placed upon the King would not waver, would not break. The King would remain the same. In fact, it might make the situation even worse because the King might pay attention to the sudden death of his advisor and suddenly surge to life and do something drastic like demand Éomer's death. Éomer was powerless to help.

Rohan was practically Saruman's before he had even started attacking the borders.

As he tightened the straps of the saddle, he heard his name being called, and he looked up to see Éowyn running into the stables.

"Éomer," she said, rushing up to his side. "They're saying that the King has outcast you from Rohan. Please tell me that it isn't true."

Éomer grimaced and couldn't meet her eye. "I'm afraid, Éowyn, that it _is_. According to the declaration that the King signed my riders and I must leave Edoras by the setting of the Sun. I have little choice."

"You have a choice," Éowyn pressed. "You must stay. Our Uncle needs you. Rohan needs you."

"You think I don't know that?" Éomer grunted. "But there is nothing that I can do about it now. The King is too far gone to see what he is doing, but I must respect his addled decision. Hope has departed us now, Éowyn, and so I must depart with it. Perhaps I can be of some use against the orcs that seek to overwhelm us all elsewhere. But not here. Not anymore."

Éowyn bit her lip and shook her head vehemently. "You are admitting defeat?"

"I have done what I can," Éomer said stiffly. "I tried my best to get the King to listen but you know as well as I that he is beyond reason now. Were it up to me I would muster every Rider within Rohan and place Isengard under siege right now, but I have been now stripped of my rank and my command. I can do now more. But I am _not_ deserting you, do you understand?" Éomer turned to look into his sister's face. "My hand has been forced. This is not my choice."

Éowyn stared at him earnestly. She was a tough woman – it was very rare to see her get upset. But this was one of the times where she didn't bother trying to conceal anything. The wounding of her cousin and the near simultaneous banishment of her brother was too much for her and for the second time that day she fell into her brother's arms. Éomer's hand rested on her back of her head as she sniffled into his shoulder.

"It's up to you now," he said quietly. "The guards of Meduseld have sworn to protect the King with their lives but you're the only one who can look after him. You always have been there for him, and I can be there no longer. Do not give up on him as I have been forced to."

"Never," Éowyn's muffled voice came back to him, causing him to smile.

"And watch out for that poisonous toadstool of an advisor," he added. "You can trust nothing that he says, understand? Nothing. I don't know exactly how much of this is his doing but I would not be surprised if it was high."

"I will do what I can," Éowyn said, withdrawing herself from his embrace and sadly helping him to prepare his horse. "But I do not see how much I could do when you yourself could do so very little."

"Hey," Éomer stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "You might not be his daughter, but there is no-one in this world that the King trusts more than you, Éowyn. Not even the Worm, for I do not believe his trust in Gríma is of his own volition. And you are as much a Daughter of Rohan as Théodred is a Son."

Éowyn allowed herself a small, sad smile of gratitude. "I will miss you dearly brother," she said.

"And I you, sister," Éomer nodded.

"Where will you go?"

"I do not know," Éomer sighed. "But I think north. Perhaps the Riders and I can find some way of life out there. If not…" he did not finish his sentence. He did not think that he could. He honestly didn't know what he would do with himself now… or how long it would be before the shadow reached wherever he decided to settle.

Brother and sister spent the rest of their time in the stable in companionable silence before Éowyn finally excused herself, claiming that she need to return to tending to Théodred, gave Éomer one last hug and departed. Éomer did not watch her leave. He did not want to be the last thing he saw of his only true remaining family member to be her back.

* * *

When mid-afternoon came around, the Riders who had gone out after the orange warg that had apparently appeared in the village returned, claiming that they had been unsuccessful and it had somehow managed to give them the slip despite a day and a night of searching. Éomer questioned them curiously, and they said they had pursued it across the plains, getting neither closer not further away while on horseback, until it had entered the more rocky landscape up north and it had somehow stopped leaving tracks and eluded them, almost as if it had disappeared into thin air.

When informed that they too had been sentenced to banishment they were understandably shocked, but they were quick to organise themselves and make ready to leave. As the Sun began its final descent, Éomer resolutely led the two-thousand Riders that he had at his back down the main path that led to the gates.

The citizens of Edoras had turned out in force to watch them go, lining the streets almost like a funeral procession and watching their own warriors and families leaving with gloomy and often tearful expressions. Some laid out flowers as if they were marching to their deaths. The children waved, though there was nothing happy about their behaviour either.

Éomer moved past the house which had been the victim of a warg in the pantry and took a moment to get a better look at it. It seemed that the warg had to be pretty powerful to cause that damage. But he reminded himself that it was no longer his business and kept moving.

He made sure not to look back at the Golden Hall as he went, because he knew what he would see. He also knew what he would _not_ see. What he _would_ see was the form of his sister outlined by the white dress she often wore, watching him and his men depart Edoras for what was probably the last time. He would also see the black robed shape of Wormtongue looking on from above in his triumph and Éomer did not want another reminder that he had been bested. He would also _not_ see the figure of the King watching them leave, nor the figure of Théodred, because one was too wounded and the other no longer cared.

And so, as Éomer reached the gates he spurred his horse on faster and faster, until all the two-thousand riders were galloping northwards, away from everything that they had loved and known for most of their lives. Many of the villagers ascended to the walls to watch them go.

Éowyn watched them leave in silence. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wormtongue casting a couple of glances at her when he thought that she was not looking, but she studiously ignored him. She stood as regally as possible, determined not to show weakness in front of him, even after all of this.

But in the end, was there a point to her defiance?

For she knew that while Rohan was losing a large number of its own forces, the armies of Isengard were undoubtedly still growing.

* * *

And that was an understatement. The pits of Isengard were still belching out their foul gases and noxious smoke, as the orcs that swarmed across the once fertile ground moved out into the borders of the forest next door, continuing to hack away tree after tree until they fell to the ground in a dead heap of cracking branches, only to be roped and hauled unceremoniously back through the gates or chopped into smaller pieces and tossed down into the cavernous holes that had been dug around the tower of Orthanc.

Down below, the rate of Uruk-Hai being spawned from the mud in the pits was ever increasing in both number and rate. They were now pulling close to fifty Uruk-Hai from the earth every hour as the orcs got better at what they were doing, whatever that was.

The constant clanging of hammer on steel, the harsh calls of the orcs and roars of newly born Uruk-Hai, as well as the acrid smell of molten metal and smoke and the orcs themselves were a constant background noise.

A background noise that was becoming increasingly taxing on the non-existent ears of both of the Digimon who had managed to remain undiscovered down here, but who had been getting increasingly aggravated about their current position. The two Bombmon had been hopping through the nooks and crannies of the place attempting to find a way out since they had arrived here yesterday, and so far they had found nothing.

Even when night had come and gone the activity around them hadn't seemed to die down at all. In fact, it only seemed to get busier, so the Bombmon both ended up having a sleepless night as they tried to figure out the way out. But so far the only thing they had found were the large wooden ramps which lead upwards. Considering the Bombmon had a noticeable lack of useful features like, say, limbs, they couldn't hope to climb the rock. But they were hardly fast on the move since they had to hop anywhere and they knew if they tried to hop up those ramps, they would be spotted.

And so they had had nothing to do but search fruitlessly and get annoyed by the constant sound.

"Ugh, seriously," one of the muttered between his constantly clenched teeth, the fuse on his head sticking up like some bizarre hairstyle. "If we haven't found our way out of these pits by this time tomorrow… or heck in two hours… if that… I'm going to blow something up, I swear it."

"I think I'm beginning to agree with you," the other, slightly calmer Bombmon agreed. "I don't think that whole thing with you getting wedged in a tight gap and me having to pull you out by the fuse didn't help my temper. Especially since I don't have any hands!"

"What do hands even feel like?" Bombmon 1 asked. "I've never had any before."

"Me neither," Bombmon 2 agreed. "It must be nice for all our friends to have things such as fingers. Still, I guess we owe the fact that we haven't been spotted so far to our small size. But I still can't figure how the heck they are pulling those creature thingies from the mud over there."

"It's downright disturbing is what it is," Bombmon 1 shuddered. "But look, there's a gap over there that we haven't checked out yet. Maybe there's something over there we can use to get out."

"I highly doubt it at this point," Bombmon 2 grumbled. "But I suppose it's worth checking out."

The two of them bounced over, keeping close to the wall and hopping through the legs of an Uruk who didn't notice them, then waited behind a rock and peered round it to make sure that there was nothing looking. As they waited, a tall bearded man in a white cloak with a staff walked past them, followed by a couple more orcs.

"Hey, is that a human?" Bombmon 2 asked.

"Looks like one," muttered the other. "You think we should ask him some questions?"

"Best not. If he's hanging around with that lot then he is very probably bad news. Kiriha did say that there were a lot of humans who weren't anything like Taiki and Nene once, remember?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the other muttered as they hopped across the gap before they could be seen and entered the new cavern – the last cavern they had not yet checked. "I really don't trust the look of these gnarly guys one bit. Especially since they're ACK!"

The two Bombmon pulled to a near screeching halt as they found themselves on the edge of a huge pit that loomed out of nowhere. The one at the front landed right on the edge and teetered precariously on the brink with no limbs to try and steady himself. The other Bombmon seized the fuse of his companion between his teeth again and rolled backwards, hauling both out of harm's way. Then they both turned and looked down into the pit and saw what seemed to be several huge wolves going at each other with teeth and claws over several chunks of meat that had been thrown into the pit with them.

"Whoa," one of the Bombmon breathed. "Don't those things look a bit like Dorulumon?"

"They're certainly the same size and shape. Mostly," the other agreed. "Are they Digimon?"

"I don't think so," the other replied. "Come on, let's get out of here before we're spotted."

"Yeah."

As the two of them hopped back the way they'd come and slipped into the shadows again, they continued on past some orcs which were piling up newly made swords and bits of armour.

And also…

"Helmets!" Bombmon 2 hissed suddenly, causing Bombmon 1 to pull to a halt.

"Eh?" Bombmon 1 asked.

"Look! Helmets!" Bombmon 2 flicked his eye across at a crate of piled up iron helmets that had been haphazardly thrown together. "Helmets for those big guys they keep pulling from the mud. That's got to be out ticket out of here. Look, those guys keep taking these crates up those ramps and out of the pits," he nodded towards several orcs that were doing just that. "Maybe, if we hitch a ride and hide in one of the helmets, we can get out of here and then slip away and escape."

"Good idea," Bombmon 1 grinned. "Our only idea in fact. Come on, let's go for it."

The worked quickly, hopping close to one of the helmet stacks and hiding behind the box. As one peered out and saw that nothing was looking their way, he quickly gave the signal and the two of them bounced up and over the side of the box, rolling in to settle together inside one of the helmets like a pair of bird's eggs in a nest. And not a moment too soon either, for about ten seconds later their crate was scooped up by a grumbling orc and hauled upwards. The Bombmon could just peek out from beneath the rim of their helmet, but as long as the orc didn't peer inside, it would not see them.

"This is it," Bombmon 1 snickered. "We're getting out of here."

"Ssh," the other whispered, their voices giving slight echoes in the tight space.

The orc trudged up to the ends of one of the wooden makeshift ramps and began to lug the heavy crate piled with helmets upwards towards the distant cloudy sky. As the light got brighter above them the Bombmon began to get excited, believing that they were home free.

Until the orc that was carrying them was suddenly shouldered from behind by a large Uruk-Hai that was running past it, causing the orc to curse as the crate lurched out of his hands and the helmets went flying everywhere. The Bombmon both yelped from within as they went sailing through the air, panicked, and the moment their helmet impacted on the ground, Bombmon 1 instinctively exploded.

There was a colossal bang of smoke as the helmet was ripped apart from within. The blast consumed the rest of the helmets, the crate, the orc that had been carrying them _and_ the Uruk which had jostled them. As well as a significant portion of the ramp upwards. And all of them were instantly obliterated by the detonation, drawing the attention of every orc in the pits, who stopped what they were doing and jostled over to see what was going on.

Though none of them noticed the two Bombmon sailed through the air and falling back down into the pits. Or if they did they just thought they were bits of debris.

The two Bombmon bounced back down beside a wall and lay there for a moment. Neither one of them were hurt – it was impossible for a Bombmon to hurt itself or another Bombmon when they went boom. It was more of an explosion of intense power out of their bodies than an actual detonation and they were both immune to the effects. They had to be or they'd vaporise themselves whenever they attacked something.

After a moment, Bombmon 1 said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Never mind," Bombmon 2 sighed, rolling back upright. "Back to the drawing board I suppose."

* * *

So, yeah hey. Like I said before, sorry that this chapter took so long, but in the end the delay will be worth it because TBAK as a whole will be a lot easier to understand when I finally finish the thing because we won't be jumping around the timeline all the time. As you can tell this chapter was a mix of stuff that happened in the movie and original stuff, but I wanted to expand a bit more on Éomer's feelings during his banishment so that is what I did. Hope you liked it. As well as the bit ahead about the Bombmon. Hehe.

* * *

Next time…

Escorted by the Elves into Caras Galadhon, Beelzemon and Wisemon encounter the Elf Queen who foresaw their arrival into this world. Not only will they learn what is going on, but they must now decide what it is that they must do next.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 19 : Lady of Light**


	19. Lady of Light

Heya, everybody. It's a day later than I was hoping it would be but that is because I went home to spend some time with the family, and I had to put a lot more time into this per day than I originally intended if I want to stay on schedule and get the next QOTG out soon. Still here's an awaited chapter about what happens to Beelzemon and Wisemon so, to that end, I won't detain you any further. Happy reading.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 19:- Lady of Light**

* * *

The forest of golden trees that Beelzemon and Wisemon had found themselves in seemed to be a very large place, for the people who they had fallen into company with had been leading them through it for a considerable amount of time. This might have had something to do with the fact they were moving slower than they might have done – none of them particularly wanted to take their eyes off the strange pair that they were guarding, and they moved with caution and excruciating slowness.

Beelzemon's ears were relatively keen and at one point he had managed to hear one of the humans that were not humans murmur to a couple of the others. "Be wary. This is the first time anyone we have had to escort to Caras Galadhon has wings. Whatever these creatures are, they can surely use them. They might try and escape upwards if they think they can get away with it."

Neither Beelzemon nor Wisemon though had any intention of using their wings just now. Wherever they were being led, it was likely to have some answers to their many questions, or at the very least allow them to get a sense of where the heck they were.

Still, there were lots of Digimon that had wings, so if these Elves had never encountered them before that wasn't reassuring. It seemed to support Wisemon's theory that they were indeed not in the Digital World anymore.

And if that was the case, then just where were they? For this did not seem to be the Human World either. But then again neither could be sure for information on the Human World was comparatively low. Most of what they knew had come by word-of-mouth from their generals and what they had seen themselves briefly when they had been there.

Wisemon in particular was trying to listen in to what these people were saying, his boundless thirst for knowledge kicking in as per usual. He had managed to deduce that these people referred to their kind as 'Elves.' And he could see a few differences from the humans he had seen before, such as the pointed ears which stuck out from their long hair, and for the most part they seemed to have more angular features, as if they had been sculpted from stone.

But did that make them some sort of human subspecies? Or were they a different species altogether. Wisemon felt the need to know, but he restrained himself for bringing it up for the time being, largely because the Elves seemed to be quite on edge around them.

They moved even slower when night fell, and they were forced to move a little more cautiously, for the Elves were determined to make sure that they, particularly Beelzemon did not try to escape Beelzemon's darker armour and wings meant that he blended into the night much better than some other Digimon did after all. Still, both the Elves and the Digimon in question could see relatively well in the dark, so they had been able to continue into the night for some time before their leader… Haldir, if Beelzemon had heard right… called a halt.

"We shall rest here until sunrise," he said, standing regally at the helm of the group. "Set up a temporary camp and make sure to stay alert," he called to the rest of his patrol.

Beelzemon smirked at his subtle choice of words. An ordinary Digimon might not have picked up on the meaning but Beelzemon was a warrior and knew this sort of thing. What Haldir has actually meant by 'stay alert' was 'make sure that you keep an eye on our two extra companions." You couldn't call either Beelzemon or Wisemon a prisoner, for the Elves had been about to shoot before they received word that someone, apparently their leader, wanted to speak to them. Not to lock them up.

Which was why Beelzemon was still going with this. If he had thought of himself as a prisoner he would have tried to bust out a while ago.

But that wasn't what was going on here. Most of these Elves were just extremely wary of him, and if he was the first like him that they had ever set eyes on before then they had every right to be. Beelzemon probably would have been very wary himself in their place.

Even though the darkness set in fully the place never really seemed to get completely dark. That was something that both Beelzemon and Wisemon noticed. The canopy blotted out the light of the moon and the stars like most canopies did, but the trees seemed to illuminate the area quite well by themselves, even in the darkness. They were not glowing exactly… it seemed more like they were giving off some strange sort of… ghost-light. Like lamps that were not really lamps.

It made it seem like the whole forest really was more alive than it originally seemed. It was as if it had not only life, but a soul. It reminded Beelzemon a great deal of the temple of the goddess which he and his fellow warriors had resided in before the encounter with the Bagra Army. Everything around him seemed to beat to a different rhythm, as if the forest itself was thinking and breathing.

It was an ethereal effect.

As the Elves settled down and silently kept an eye on their surrounded companions, Beelzemon decided to try and break the ice a little bit. The journey had been nothing but awkward up to this point, both sides wary of the other though Beelzemon got the distinct feeling that there was no need for 'sides' in this affair.

So even through the darkness he stepped towards Haldir at the front of the escort. He felt rather than saw all the Elves around him tense slightly, but Beelzemon ignored them as he stepped closer. Haldir himself seemed rather tense, but his expression remained carefully neutral as he said, "What do you want, stranger?"

"To talk," Beelzemon replied evenly. "You must have some questions about my companion and I. Just as I have some questions about you and your company. And yet you are taking us to your main stronghold at the request of what is apparently your leader."

"The Lady of the Golden Wood is infinitely wise," Haldir replied. "She understands the ways of the world in a sense that no mortal Man ever could… and even in a sense that most of we, her fellow Elves, could not hope to fathom. If she says that you are capable of trust then I shall have faith in her decision."

"Perhaps," Beelzemon gave him a friendly smile. "But you cannot deny that, even with your faith, you and your fellows are extremely wary of me and my own ally. There is an awkward enmity between our two groups and I feel it is because neither knows enough about the other, so I thought I should attempt to put a change to that."

"Enmity perhaps," Haldir agreed, a little tight-lipped. "Because to us you resemble some kind of servant of darkness. We have lived long and seen full well some of the creations by the various powers of darkness that infest this world. Creatures of your visage are more often than not on the side of our enemies."

"Then we are not like those enemies of yours," Beelzemon replied simply. "I can tell that you're a man, or Elf, of honour, Haldir. You have the air of a warrior about you. A warrior that looks up to a leader with faith and a good heart."

"And you are the same?" Haldir asked.

"I am," Beelzemon nodded. "I have done questionable things in my past to tell you the truth but I have long sought to make up for them in any way that I can and I too have a leader that I follow with faith, though I am unsure as to his current whereabouts. Or indeed my current whereabouts. But one thing I can tell you is that you have nothing to fear from me or from him," he nodded towards Wisemon, who was staring at an Elf as if trying to work out how his body was put together and making the Elf squirm.

Haldir regarded Beelzemon silently for several moments, before he said, "Something tells me that you are being truthful. But I shall reserve judgement for the time being. I wish to hear what the Lady has to say about this in person. As well as the Lord. These are dark times. Very dark indeed. Evil has been stirring across the lands to the east and west both and trust is a commodity which we cannot afford to give freely. Not anymore."

Beelzemon nodded. "I understand. I only wish to try and assure you that I will not attempt anything untoward against you and your friends."

"And I find it reassuring," Haldir gave Beelzemon a grim smile, which Beelzemon returned. "But I feel sure that I have more questions of you than you of us."

"Maybe," Beelzemon chuckled.

"I must admit there is one question that plagues me," Haldir stated. "And that is your left arm. I apologise in advance for any rudeness this question may produce but why does it have that strange rectangular shape? Is it some form of disfigurement?"

"Disfigurement?" Beelzemon took on a look of faux-indignation. "No, it is not. It is true that this is a part of me," he looked down at Berenjena hanging by his side. "But it is completely made of metal. Perhaps it might make you more uneasy if I were to say it but I shall be honest and tell you that it is a weapon. I could give you a demonstration on how it works, but it would definitely destroy something. It is perhaps left better unused for the time being."

Haldir did indeed look more wary at this declaration and he eyed the cannon thoughtfully. "It is a part of your, you say?" he asked. "It is impossible for you to remove it?"

"I could remove the bulk of the cannon," Beelzemon said. "But I would be unable to remove the mechanism inside that causes it to fire. But it is dangerous, so I will only use it against enemies. And I already know Haldir that you are not my enemy."

Haldir nodded, looking a little reassured.

"When do you expect for us to arrive at our destination?" Beelzemon asked. "I would rather like to receive some of the answers to my questions and I get the impression that this Lady of yours would be able to provide me with some if anybody around here can. I have my own friends that I must find who may be somewhere close by."

"If we continue our journey at dawn and pick up the pace a little we should arrive at Caras Galadhon, the stronghold of the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, by midday at least. I suggest that you… that we all… get some rest."

Beelzemon nodded. "It has not been a long day but a lot has happened in it," he agreed. "Even I don't know the half of it."

And with that, Beelzemon and Haldir parted company and Beelzemon made his way back to Wisemon.

"Do you think that these Elf creatures would allow me to take a sample of their hair?" Wisemon asked, seemingly unaware of what Beelzemon had just been doing. "I have always wanted to examine the constitution of this DNA phenomenon that Taiki mentioned to me once but I never got the opportunity to ask any of the Generals for a sample. Curse my lack of hindsight."

Beelzemon chuckled. "I would wait until our audience with their authority figure before you go asking questions like that. It might be best not to offend anyone by accident."

Wisemon sighed. "I suppose you might be right. Very well, I shall wait. But I look forward to having some of my questions answered."

"As do I, Wisemon," Beelzemon nodded. "As do I.

* * *

Nobody slept for the rest of the night, though everyone got the opportunity to rest a little, and they continued on their journey the next day in much the same manner as before, except a little faster, as Haldir seemed to be slightly more willing to give the Digimon the benefit of the doubt. They proceeded through the ethereal golden trees and the moss covered ground and all the while Beelzemon and Wisemon were enthralled by the scenery around them, even though it remained largely the same.

Would that the Digital World had a place like this. It was a world of wonders no doubt but something like this would be a highly popular place amongst forest Digimon. Perhaps the Stingmon and Lilamon which had helped the Xros Heart team on more than one occasion would find it a paradise. The two of them were still in regular contact with Shoutmon and the rest back in their world, but both Beelzemon and Mervamon had flat-out refused to perform the Love-love Dance despite Lilamon's begging.

"We do not need to prove that we have love," Mervamon had said. "It should be fairly obvious anyway."

Beelzemon smiled at the memory. He wondered what Mervamon would be doing with herself right now. He wondered if she was alright. She was a powerful Digimon, more than capable of looking after herself, but that didn't stop Beelzemon from worrying. After all, was that not what mated couples were supposed to do.

He remembered fondly the time when they relationship had began. Yes, they had been fighting for their lives at the time, and Beelzemon had shortly after sacrificed his own life to put a final stop to Lilithmon, the woman who had ruined his life and made the warriors he had stood with to start killing each other, but Beelzemon found that he greatly approved of Mervamon's prowess in battle.

Though it seemed Mervamon had developed greater feelings for him at an earlier stage. He still recalled how she had smacked him over the head so hard he had almost fallen over with her snake arm when he brought up the fact she cared about him. And who could forget the fact that she had literally jumped on top of him when he had been reborn or the final battle against DarknessBagramon.

But for now, he knew that he could not help Mervamon wherever she happened to be. Until such a time as he found out where she was, he could not do anything. So he decided to focus on himself, and out just what was happening to _him_.

And so they went on through the forest. Eventually they reached a place where a river blocked their passage, and the Elves seemed to use some kind of rope system to get themselves across – a single tightrope for their feet and another rope at around shoulder-height for the use of their hands. Not that any of them seemed to _need_ this extra rope. They stepped up one by one and walked across the tightrope with smooth ease, only one hand resting on the other rope more to make sure that it stayed out of the way than actually use it for balance.

When gestured to go across themselves, both Beelzemon and Wisemon just chuckled and lifted themselves into the air. The Elves tensed and hands tightened on bows and went towards quivers but they needn't have worried. Both Beelzemon and Wisemon simply moved across the river and alighted on the other side wordlessly, turning to wait for the rest of the Elves to walk across.

The Elves seemed to be slightly less wary around them after that, but they still kept a rather careful watch.

And then, at midday just like Haldir had predicted, they arrived.

"Look well, strangers," Haldir turned to them as they saw the Elven stronghold from over a rise, while Beelzemon and Wisemon stared in wonderment at the wooden structures which rose around the trees in the distance, ornately carved and every inch seeming to have been neatly caressed into shape by hand. "You are about to enter a place which few eyes beyond those of our own people have ever set eyes on. The Lady must think quite highly of you to allow you passage into the heart of our woods. You would do well to show it the respect that it deserves."

* * *

And they certainly did, as they proceeded down into the valley that Caras Galadhon lay in. They were both astounded, and that did not happen often to _either_ of them. Considering the fact that they were from the Digital World, a place full to the brim of weird and wonderful locations and environments, the phrase "out of this world" should have theoretically not applied to them. But it didn't. Neither of them had seen anything quite like this before in their lives.

It was enrapturing.

The place seemed to glow with the same ethereal light which had been keeping the forest illuminated even at night, only stronger so it could be seen in the day. The trees rose to incredible height and around them were surrounded by wooden spiral staircases that wound their way around the trunks and up into the leaves. It was like an entire city that had been built from down to up instead of in to out. Huge platforms and structures and bridges adorned the trees around them everywhere they looked, and yet it somehow seemed to look completely natural, as if the forest had grown that way rather than having been added to articificially.

It almost seemed to be a work of art. Except that even works of art looked artificial so it was even _better_ than a work of art.

Neither Beelzemon nor Wisemon could think of anything to say and just stared around the almost dumbly as Haldir and his fellow Elves led the two of them up a staircase that Beelzemon had to stoop and fold his wings down to get into since he was so tall in comparison to the Elves, who were pretty tall for humanoids already. Lanterns seemed to float everywhere of their own accord. There were other Elves around them in flowing silken robes which stopped in whatever they were doing to watch them with interest.

But not fear. Some of them were certainly wary, but none of them had any fear.

It was as if this place was a paradise.

"Ballistamon would have a field day if he came here," Beelzemon finally muttered. "He loves art and if this place is not beautiful then I am not sure what is."

Haldir actually chuckled. "Now I am more convinced," he said. "A servant of darkness would never call this place beautiful, despite the obviousness that it is. They would like nothing more than to ravage this land and burn all of this to the ground."

"Never me," Beelzemon shook his head. "Such fine craftsmanship should last for all eternity."

"I am glad you say this," Haldir replied. "For we are of a similar mind. But now it is time that you meet with the Lord and Lady of this wood – Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel."

"As I recall," Wisemon said. "It was the Lady who requested our presence here was it not?"

"Indeed," Haldir nodded. "I need hardly tell you that you would do well to treat them with respect."

"That," Beelzemon chuckled. "Is my specialty."

The group proceeded up the stairs still further until they arrived on a platform at the base of a short flight of stairs. More Elves stood around in golden armour with long spears or lances that had white streaming flags attached beneath the points that seemed to sweep around willy-nilly despite the fact that there was no wind. As Beelzemon and Wisemon were led towards the centre of it, a bright light seemed to shine from the top of the stairs, so intense that both felt the instinct to shield their vision, but finding that neither of them needed to for the light did not sting their eyes.

As they stood side by side and watched they became aware of a pair of figures reaching the top of the stairs in the middle of the bright light, hand in hand with one another as they delicately stepped to the edge and made their way slowly, regally, downwards until they came to a stop half-way down the short flight, putting their own heads at eye-level with Beelzemon's.

Both the Digimon stared.

One of the figures was clearly male despite his long hair. He wore a lustrous grey robe that fell around him and seemed to highlight his sharp face and even sharper ears. His eyes were the same grey as the cloak and he seemed to be giving a stern and intense look from him eyes, immediately giving the two Digimon the impression that he was a just and fair ruler of this forest.

But it was the Lady that really caught their attention, particularly Beelzemon's. Where the Lord wore grey, the Lady wore white. Purest white that looked like it had been freshly taken out of a wash that had lasted for three days. There was not a trace of dirt of grime to be found on the material and it put any human wedding dress to shame, as it seemed to glow even against the glow of the surrounding woodland city.

Her hair was long and gold and flowed down almost below her waist-line in smooth lines like a curtain. Her eyes were a piercing blue, set in her picturesque face that looked like it had been shaped out of marble by the finest craftsman in the land who had diligently gotten every detail to perfection over several weeks. But the eyes were the parts that really stood out, for when they turned to look into Beelzemon's three red ones, they seemed to look straight through his outer skin and into his heart, his mind and his soul, baring every part of him open like a book – his darkest secrets to his greatest of joys.

Wisemon muttered, "Oh my," quietly to himself, and Beelzemon had to agree with him, but it didn't really register in his ears. He was transfixed as he stared at the visage of the Lady of the Golden Wood. But not just because it was a beautiful face. As he stared at her, he felt himself overcome with emotion and a sense of deepest reverence and, indeed… nostalgia.

She was so familiar to him.

Though of course neither of them had met before. But Beelzemon knew exactly who it was that this woman, this Elven Lady, reminded him of.

The Lord Celeborn looked like he was about to say something, but before he could even get the words out of his mouth Beelzemon dropped to one knee, folding his cannon over his chest and bowing his head, while holding his only actual hand up, palm facing outwards and fingers together, in the direction of the Lady.

The Elves just stared at him blankly, and even Wisemon looked a little bemused. None of them had ever seen anybody do this before to their Lady though they all knew that she commanded a great amount of respect from all who even looked upon her. Still, this gesture was something new to all of them.

"What are you doing?" Celeborn asked him. This had probably not been the form of greeting that he had been intending to give, but he too looked slightly confused. He had long since known that his wife held much more power and respect that he ever could, for Galadriel was more in tune with the ways of nature than even he, so he was not surprised that the stranger was acknowledging Galadriel rather than him. That happened all the time. But the method of his respect had still caught him off guard.

But Galadriel just smiled warmly and said, "Arise Beelzemon. You have no reason to show me such a sign of respect."

"Forgive me, my Lady, but I do," Beelzemon said, as he looked up. "Your aura… the air you have around you… your stance, your warmth and your light and the way that you look down on us with affection and love… you are akin to the Goddess of the Sand Zone that I long pledged my allegiance to. In fact you are almost exactly the same. I can sense your intense power and unending love for life and for your subjects. How can I not compare you to my own Goddess when you are so very alike?"

"Ah yes," Wisemon raised a finger. "I understand now. You are the last of the Goddess' warriors, are you not? I have read much about the Goddess but never encountered her myself. You say that this Lady is just like her?"

"Very much so," Beelzemon nodded. "She stands like the statue that the other warriors always prayed to. Though of course, she does not have wings," he added. "Wherever we are now, perhaps it was no mere coincidence that we landed close by to this place."

Galadriel's smile grew in length and in warmness. "Arise," she repeated. "I am not your Goddess, though the fact that you compare me to her is indeed flattering to me. I am the Lady Galadriel of the Eldar and you do not owe me such kindness or respect."

"But nevertheless I give it," Beelzemon said as he got to his feet and lowered his hand. "I do not understand the full situation at hand, but I feel obligated to do so."

"And I thank you for it," Galadriel nodded her head. "To be regarded in the same light as your Goddess is a high honour indeed, for I can sense the loyalty that you feel to her. You went through many trials before you finally became her warrior and her legacy lives on in you now, Beelzemon. And she made the right decision to grant you your warriorhood. Your heart is noble and your soul is kind, and your actions have steered you into the path of the light in her name. In fact…"

Even Celeborn suddenly gawped as Galadriel broke her hand away from his and suddenly bent down to one knee. Every Elf in the place was staring in abject shock as they watched Galadriel lower her head to Beelzemon. This was an unprecedented event! Galadriel had never bowed to anyone in any of their long memories! And yet here she was bending her knee to a complete stranger and a creature that they didn't even know the species of.

Beelzemon looked a little bit flustered as Galadriel stood back up and resumed her place by Celeborn.

"There," she said, with another smile. "Now, we are even."

"Um… thank you," Beelzemon muttered. "I… I apologise if you thought my former actions inappropriate."

"Not inappropriate, just unnecessary," Galadriel laughed. "You have no allegiance to me, Beelzemon, nor any cause to give me such respect, for you are not of this world. And you have your own loyalties to consider, such as the loyalties to your own Goddess. As well as the loyalty to your King and your loved one."

Beelzemon's three eyes widened. "How do you know this?" he asked. "And I now realise that you know my name. I do not believe I have ever told it to you. Who informed you? Are there other Digimon here already?"

"None," Galadriel replied. "Your friends are currently scattered, spread out across the various kingdoms and countries of our land, dotted in various places. But while I know comparatively little of your Digimon or your world or your ways, I know much of what transpires in this land of Middle Earth. And I have been aware of your arrival since before you were even snatched abruptly from your own domain yesterday."

"So you know what it is that happened to us?" Wisemon asked eagerly.

Galadriel's eyes turned towards the hooded and robed Digimon. "And you are Wisemon, the greatest seeker of knowledge in all of your world. You have proven yourself to be a valuable asset to your team many times with your ability to analyse and determine the meaning of various key factors. And before you ask, the answer is no. You may not dissect any of the Elves of this world to find out how their internal organs work."

"Aaw," Wisemon visibly deflated. "I couldn't dissect Taiki and his friends because Taiki saved my life. Now I'm told I'm not allowed to dissect any of these people either. How am I supposed to find out who things work if I cannot get inside to have a look?"

"Are you reading our thoughts?" Beelzemon asked. "How did you know that Wisemon was going to ask that?"

Galadriel smiled enigmatically, but she said no more on the subject.

Celeborn chose this moment to clear his throat and say, "I am afraid that the present situation has shifted beyond my realms of understanding. I am not following the direction of this conversation. Please, visitors, state your intentions. We have not had many guests to Caras Galadhon in recent decades and never have we encountered creatures such as you, and many of us have lived long lives indeed."

"You do not look that old to me," Wisemon stated. "Were I to base your appearance with what I understand of human physical changes I would estimate you to be only a little over thirty years of age."

"We are much older than that," Galadriel replied. "We are not humans. Humans are referred to as Men in this land and we are the Elven people. Unlike mortal men, we do not fade as we age. And we do not die unless we are brought down through strength of arms. I have lived and walked among this world and its inhabitants for nigh on ten-thousand years and you are something new completely to our world."

"Ten-thousand?" Beelzemon's eyes widened. "Wow. That's far older even than Jijimon."

"What is relevant is that you are strangers to us," Celeborn said. "I would very much like to know what it is that you are doing here and what it is you are." Galadriel gave another vague smile at these words, and Beelzemon wondered how much about them she knew exactly.

"Well, my Lord," Beelzemon placed his hand on his chest and lowered his head. "We are creatures known as Digimon and… well… apparently we hail from a completely different world. An alternate universe. Yes, that might be a better way of putting it. As to what we are doing here I cannot honestly say. It would seem that the Lady Galadriel knows even more about it than I do and I know next to nothing."

"All that we remember," Wisemon threw in. "Is that one moment we were within the banquet hall of our castle back in our own world and then we somehow ended up lying unconscious in your enchanted forest. If there were any events that transpired between then neither Beelzemon or I have any memory of them. I believe it is safe to assume that our Code Crown deposited us here somehow."

"Code Crown?" Celeborn asked. "What is a Code Crown?"

"It is a conduit throughout the entire code of our universe flows," Wisemon explained. "It might be a difficult concept to grasp. In simplified terms, it is a device that would allow whoever to possess it to shape the world in any way that they choose. But it is also alive, so it is capable of acting on its own, meaning that anyone who attempts to use it for evil may certainly succeed, but it would probably be attempting to find a way to stop them. For some unknown reason, I believe that it may have felt the need to send us here, though I cannot begin to guess why."

Beelzemon frowned slightly, remembering the conversation that he had had with Shoutmon moments before the Code Crown had started acting up. The conversation about Shoutmon's doubts as to whether he should still be King and his own uncharacteristic lack of confidence in himself. Could that have had something to do with it?

_Indeed,_ said a voice in his head – Galadriel's voice. Beelzemon's head snapped up to focus on her as he realised she was speaking to him telepathically. _The concept of your Code Crown is puzzling to me. Never have I heard anything like it throughout all of my many centuries. But I can feel that the Code Crown did have a motive in sending you all here. A motive that revolves around your King and his sudden lack of confidence._

_So you are reading my mind?_ Beelzemon thought back.

_I find 'reading your heart' to be a much more appropriate term_, she smiled. And then she continued aloud. "This is no mere accident that they are here in our time of need," to the assembled Elves and to Celeborn. "Nor is this the work of a force of their universe alone. I can feel through the flow of the world that this is the desire and the work of Eru Ilúvatar himself. It is by his will that these two Digimon are here in our world when we would most need their skills and power in the fight against the Dark Lord and his forces."

There was whispering amongst the Elves. Apparently this was _very_ big news indeed. Beelzemon was not sure that he was following the conversation, but apparently some higher power, perhaps this world's version of his own goddess, had apparently something to do with their sudden appearance in this land.

"We have known that Eru has been watching us of late," Galadriel went on. "Gandalf was returned to us at the time when we would need him most, with power renewed and strength restored, succeeding the corrupted Saruman as the White Wizard of this land. And though Eru will not interfere with his own direct power, he has seen reason to draw these Digimon, good people all, out of their own world with the aid of their world's mystical power, in order to aid us in this fight. They are to be trusted. That, I sense without a doubt."

"Then there are more out there than these two, milady?" Haldir asked.

"Indeed," Galadriel smiled. "With a good thirty different body shapes and designs but Digimon all as I am led to believe."

Beelzemon was seriously beginning to get impressed by how much this lady seemed to know. She was not an average person even by Digimon standards, and Digimon could be extremely different from one another.

"You are here to fight against Sauron then?" Celeborn asked of Beelzemon and Wisemon.

"Maybe," Beelzemon shrugged. "In fact… apparently."

"Who is Sauron?" Wisemon asked curiously. "Could he be this world's version of Bagramon – a dark and tyrannical figure bent of reshaping the world into that of his own desires and using various powerful minions to accomplish his task?"

"That is a fairly accurate analogy of Sauron yes," Celeborn nodded. "Though there is more to it than that. But hope in the fight against Sauron is negligible at best."

"No," Galadriel shook her head. "It _was_. The world is changing once more and I feel the great powers rising within it again to grant us this gift. With these Digimon fighting with the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, I believe that hope has been reborn anew from the ashes of hopelessness. And I am sure," she added, flashing them another smile. "That they will not turn their backs on us."

Beelzemon and Wisemon's eyes both widened. Now Galadriel was using the catchphrase of Taiki Kudou himself and the motto of the kingdom which Shoutmon had built. She was indeed remarkably well informed, and the two of them were finding themselves believing her words. It seemed that some powerful being who did not want to interfere personally too much in the affairs of the world had sent them here to help in any way they could.

At the same time, Beelzemon pondered the implications of the Code Crown's involvement. Was it possible that all of this was not only to help the locals of this world against some Dark Lord figure, but as a test for Shoutmon? A test to try and help him dissuade the doubts that plagued him?

He decided to try and ask. "Were there any others besides we Digimon who were transported to this universe, my Lady?"

"No," Galadriel shook her head. "No alternate transports from other worlds were made."

Beelzemon grimaced slightly. That meant that none of the Generals had been transported along with them. Taiki, Kiriha, Nene, Yuu and even the Xros Loader-less Akari and Zenjirou had all remained behind in their own world. That meant that they had landed themselves in the middle of a war without their Generals, making DigiXrosing and Super Digivolving impossible for any of them. They would have to use the bodies that they were in already, meaning that he himself, Mervamon and Deckerdramon were the strongest members of the group now.

It also meant that Taiki was not around to make all the decisions.

And that was one of the biggest issues that had plagued Shoutmon.

Beelzemon looked up at Galadriel again and wondered if she had been looking into his head to see his train of thought and he saw her definitely giving him a look. She inclined her head in a barely perceptibly nod, and Beelzemon felt his lip tighten slightly. So this was it? Aside from the will of this Eru person that the Elves were talking about, from the Code Crown's perspective this was a test for Shoutmon? It made some sort of sense. If there were dark invasions going on in this world then this would be the first time that Shoutmon had led his team through hard times without Taiki there to help and guide him.

Would the Code Crown's test for Shoutmon prove fruitful? Would it restore Shoutmon's faith in his own abilities?

Or would it break him and cause him to believe that he really wasn't worthy after all and force someone else to take up the mantle?

If this was the Code Crown's plan then the chances of it backfiring seemed to be extremely high. But then again, Beelzemon didn't know the full situation yet.

"Perhaps," Celeborn was saying when Beelzemon started listening again, unaware of how much of the conversation he had actually missed. "If Eru is willing to look out for us and send us further aid than he has ever sent our way before then there really is a chance of further hope. But there is still a chance that all this might fail considering the circumstances surrounding the Dark Lord's previous rise and fall from power."

"Indeed, but I know that the Digimon will be of monumental help to us. To all of us," Galadriel said. "All the free people's of Middle Earth. As I once said to a young Halfling who wondered through our woodlands on his journey south – 'Even the smallest of us can change the course of the future.' But many of these Digimon are far from small. And their powers are like nothing that this world has ever seen."

"Perhaps we should ask for a demonstration of this power," Celeborn suggested.

"Last night," Haldir voiced. "You said that that thing on your arm was a weapon, did you not?" he nodded towards the cannon situated on Beelzemon's arm.

"Yes, but I also said if I used it I would end up destroying something. Probably quite substantially," Beelzemon added, hefting the large barrel of his huge cannon. "And I would not wish to use it here, lest I damage the work that had obviously gone into the construction of this place." He then smirked. "However, perhaps… yes." He pulled his shotgun from the holster attached to his leg. "Give me a target that you would not mind being destroyed."

Celeborn nodded to a pair of elves and they hurried off, returning a few moments later with a wooden target that was dotted with arrow holes… presumably used by younger Elves who were beginning the task of mastering their bows. Beelzemon moved his arm faster than could be tracked and fired a green blast from his gun that zipped across the gap and smacked right into the centre of the target, blowing a hole in it and cracking the entire thing in half with the force of the hit alone, causing it to fall to the ground in two pieces.

The Elves had never seen an energy attack like this before and were suitably amazed.

"And this…" Beelzemon lifted his cannon. "Is essentially a much more powerful version of that."

"And what do you do?" Celeborn asked of Wisemon.

"I?" Wisemon chuckled. "I am not nearly as built for combat as Beelzemon. My strengths lie more in seeking knowledge and being able to use what I know to solve technical problems and help my company with finding solutions to certain issues which crop up. Though I do have my own talents in battle. They just aren't as flashy or powerful as Beelzemon's."

"We thank you for your faith in us, my Lady," Beelzemon nodded. "But in truth I would still very much like to know what it is that will be required of us. As I understand it, we have been tasked by our Code Crown and your Eru to help bring peace to this world, which I believe to be on the brink of war if not already in it. Would I be correct in assuming this?"

"You would," Galadriel nodded gravely. "Middle Earth stands upon the very edge of domination by the darkness. The peoples of our lands are divided and the strength of each of us is not what it once was. The strength of the Elves is waning. The Dwarves become ever more reclusive. And Men are also falling to wreck and ruin. It is truly a time of evil, and there is one being to blame for this. And that being's name, as you have heard, is Sauron."

"Are we supposed to fight this Sauron?" Beelzemon asked.

"Fighting Sauron directly would be beyond even any of you," Galadriel replied. "For Sauron is currently nothing more than a spirit without a true physical body. No. It is his armies and minions that require someone to defeat them. Destroying Sauron will have to come from another angle."

"And what angle would that be?" Wisemon asked.

"To answer that," Galadriel replied. "I must go back to many years ago, before the Third Age of Middle Earth began. A long time ago even for myself."

And so she recounted everything, with Celeborn. Wisemon kept raising his hand and asking questions at certain places, the same intense look of concentration on his face that he always wore when he was focusing particularly hard on a puzzle that he had been given. The Elf Lord and Lady told the story of how Sauron had come to deceive the Elves into creating the Rings of Power and how he had used his own to rise up against the forces of Middle Earth, up to his defeat at the hands of Isildur and the events that Sauron had gone through from that point onwards.

"In short," Galadriel said. "The only way to destroy Sauron now is to destroy the One Ring before Sauron can use it to regain his body."

Beelzemon felt his face crease into a grimace. It seemed very similar to the idea of Bagramon and the Code Crown, except that this time they were trying to destroy the small object that governed the fate of the world instead of trying to get it back and use it themselves.

"Then how are we supposed to stop him?" Wisemon asked.

"The situation with the Ring is already being handled," Galadriel replied enigmatically. "But it may take quite some time before that hope can be fulfilled and this land can be cleansed. Until that time, the forces of the land of Mordor are beginning to roam out and it will not be long before all the Free Lands are effected by Sauron's new uprising. What is needed is for us all to keep our lands free until such a time as Sauron himself can be destroyed."

"But we Digimon are scattered and lost," Beelzemon said. "How many of us now know about all of this? If neither Wisemon nor I were given any prior knowledge on this then I believe it is safe to assume that the others now nothing of this either."

"You are a team, are you not?" Galadriel asked. "You must overcome these boundaries that have been set in your way. That is the work of the Code Crown and Eru combined, for there are many lands which will need the help of a Digimon soon enough and now they will mostly have one."

"I see," Beelzemon muttered.

Galadriel smiled and said, "Wisemon. If you have any other questions about our race and our land then I am sure that my fellow Elves would be happy to oblige."

Wisemon's eyes lit up and he immediately crossed over to Haldir. "It's a good thing that we've cleared the air between us a little. I have been absolutely bursting with questions about your race. My most burning one is this – what is the significance of the points to your ears? Do they provide some obscure function for your species, for the humans that have seen all had round ears before. Do you use the points as props for some articles of clothing, like scarves for instance."

The other Elves looked slightly scared as Wisemon moved his dark face close to them – the effect of his yellow eyes staring out of the blackness in his hood was unnerving. But as Wisemon was pre-occupied, Galadriel moved down the steps and moved towards Beelzemon, who noticed that her feet were bare. How odd.

"Come, Beelzemon. There is something that I wish to show you. And it is to be for your eyes alone," she said significantly, before she moved away, treading as lightly as a phantom but as gratefully as a nymph. Beelzemon shook his head. Truly, if the statue of the Goddess had ever got up and moved about it probably would have moved in the same way despite the fact it was made of stone. He turned to see Wisemon would probably be pre-occupied for some time, chuckled and then followed Galadriel away.

* * *

Galadriel began to move back down the stairs which Beelzemon had originally ascended, but the taller Digimon decided not to bother with that this time. Especially now that the Elves seemed to trust him. He could understand why they had trusted him so easily – this Lady seemed to radiate with a sense of trust. If she believed that Beelzemon was not evil, then it was unquestionably true. At least that was the impression that Beelzemon got from her.

So, he spread his raven wings and leapt off the platform, catching himself in the air and steadily flapping as he descended down to the foot of the enormous tree, keeping pace with Galadriel as she stepped smoothly down the spiral staircase of the trunk.

He reached the foot of the stairs and alighted easily at the same moment that Galadriel stepped across the mossy ground, not bothered by the fact that she was wearing no shoes.

"I must admit," said Beelzemon, looking up at Caras Galadhon. "This place is astonishing. I have travelled to many places of my own world and encountered many places, but nothing quite like this."

"I am pleased that it meets with your approval," Galadriel smiled. "This place is not often seen by outsiders even of our own world."

"Then I count myself all the luckier," Beelzemon chuckled. "What are these huge trees anyway? They rival some of the largest trees of the Digital World in size but none of our trees have any golden leaves. Not to my knowledge anyway."

"We call them _Mallorn_ trees," Galadriel replied as she stepped away across the moss. "And this is the only place in Middle Earth where this particular tree grows. This place is known as the Golden Wood of Lothlórien and the forest itself is quite small in comparison to some of Middle Earth's great woods. But it is where we make our home."

"I can understand why you like it," Beelzemon said. "I know Deckerdramon would approve. He used to be a forest guardian himself after all."

Galadriel chuckled, but said nothing more on that subject. Beelzemon looked round as she followed the Elf Queen across the ground. There were many other Elves all around the place and they almost seemed to be a part of the forest itself since they looked so at home in it. They watched the two of them curiously as they proceeded away, bowing their heads in respect to Galadriel as they passed and staring at Beelzemon as if trying to work out what he was.

"So," Beelzemon spoke up again shortly afterwards. "Where are we going?"

Galadriel laughed lightly. "To a place where even few of the Elves who live here have ever set foot."

Beelzemon raised a brow at this enigmatic reply, but decided to say nothing and just wait and see. And he soon found out the answer when they reached a place on the outskirts of the wooden metropolis that was Caras Galadhon. They reached an area which seemed to be like a large ovular pit in the ground surrounded on all sides by a rocky walls, with a stone staircase that descended down that wall to the bottom.

Beelzemon paused at the top of the stair and looked down into the… well, 'pit' was probably the wrong word since it was clearly naturally formed, framed by the roots of another Mallorn tree. 'Hollow' would probably be a better word. Yes, hollow. He looked down into the hollow and saw what appeared to be a small waterfall trickling down into a small, raised pool at one edge, while right in the middle was a large stone pedestal upon which sat a simple, silver, flat-bottomed and shallow bowl that was probably about two feet across.

How bizarre.

And yet Beelzemon could also tell that this place had some form of deep purpose. It felt similar to the space surrounding the statue of the Goddess from when he had been trying to become a member. This place was important in some way. But in _what_ way?

Galadriel was already half-way down the steps and Beelzemon turned to follow her. By the time he reached the bottom, Galadriel had take a long-necked equally silver jug that glinted brightly in the ethereal light of the place and had dipped it into the pool by the side of the hollow's wall. Beelzemon stood by and watched her as the water flowed smoothly into the open neck and filled it up. Galadriel then lifted it up and turned to Beelzemon once more, holding it before her with one hand by its simple handle.

"What is this place?" Beelzemon asked, glanced at the shrub-surrounded pedestal that he was standing next to with the wide bowl sat atop it innocently.

"It is the Mirror of Galadriel," the Elf Queen replied. "In this basin, filled with water, it can show you visions of events anywhere in this world. Events from the past, the present and the future alike. I am going to offer you the chance to have a look into the mirror for yourself and see what there is to be seen."

To a human from the Human World, such a concept would have been boggling or even laughable, but Beelzemon was from the Digital World where a huge number of strange and wonderful things happened? A magic seeing bowl? Why not?

"Then it can show me the locations of my friends?" Beelzemon asked quickly.

"Perhaps," Galadriel replied. "I can command it to show what I wish, but I cannot know everything and to let it show events unbidden is usually more lucrative. It can teach us things that we cannot yet possibly understand, but it does not always make all the answers clear. In fact, it rarely does. However, nothing that the mirror shows is ever without meaning. Will you look into it?"

Beelzemon did not hesitate for a moment and nodded. "If we Digimon have been sent here by our own Code Crown to fulfil a task then any information that can help us achieve this goal and come out with our lives is invaluable. I will look."

"Very well," Galadriel nodded, stepping up to basin and slowly tilting the vase, to allow a thin stream of water to spill forth and arc into the bowl like a jet fountain. Beelzemon stayed put, watching carefully until the basin was half full of liquid, at which point Galadriel simply stepped back and placed the jug down, before indicating Beelzemon to take up his place.

Beelzemon set his face grimly and stepped up to the basin. He towered above it like a dark silhouetted, his wings bathing it in a shadow as he leaned over slightly and found his reflection staring back at him. A moment later and he felt Galadriel step up beside him as well as saw her own reflection appear at the edge of the water in the basin. Evidently she too would like to see whatever the mirror decided to show to Beelzemon.

For a few seconds nothing happened and all.

Then, the water in the basin seemed to ripple of its own accord and when it stilled again there was a completely new image staring out at them. It reminded Beelzemon a little of looking at the screens of the Monitamon when they were playing back a video that they had recorded, except larger and perhaps clearer, as if the event really was taking place in front of him rather than just being an image in a bowl of water.

He saw Shoutmon standing on a large boulder next to an elderly looking man with a white cloak and beard, talking to one another earnestly, though he could not make out what it was that either of them were saying for there was no sound to accompany the images. Shoutmon's face was very grim, and Beelzemon somehow could tell that he too had learned of the situation at hand with this Sauron guy.

The image shifted again and Beelzemon saw what it was he had been hoping the mirror would show him. Mervamon was framed in the water and she seemed to be in some kind of dry grassy plain. She was running, keeping pace with an adult human, an Elf and a shorter being with a long beard. Beelzemon was pleased to note that Cutemon was there too, riding her shoulder, and she appeared to be carrying another human over her other shoulder.

Why they were running Beelzemon could not tell but while their faces held a sense of urgency there was no fear or indication that they were running _from_ anything. But that didn't stop Beelzemon from worrying.

Moments later the image changed again to show Ballistamon wandering through a bunch of rocks, then shifted to Dorulumon talking to a pair of human children with a horse, both of whom looked terrified of him. He saw Starmon wandering up a river with all of his Pickmon in tow as well as Knightmon and the PawnChessmon. He saw Sparrowmon zooming through the skies in the company of a large brown-feathered bird that flapped beside her. He saw Dracomon forcing his way through a snowdrift and shivering slightly before a giant spear came down and helped to shift more snow out of the way, courtesy of the large form of Cyberdramon.

"Is all of this the present?" Beelzemon asked, staring into the depths of the bowl as it shifted again to show him Greymon walking through a forested area with Bastemon on his back.

"That can only be guessed at," Galadriel replied. "But it is indeed possible."

Beelzemon did not take his eyes off the image as it cycled through his various companions, showing him that every single member of Xros Heart had indeed been transported into Middle Earth, as has the honorary members Spadamon and Lunamon, the first of which was in a foggy place and the other of which was in a swamp with Dondokomon and ChibiKamemon and looked frightened out of her mind for some reason. Beelzemon bit his lip at the thought of her being in trouble when he could do nothing to help her, but he still knew where none of these places actually _were_. The Mirror didn't seem to be willing to show him that.

But his stomach _really_ clenched at what he saw a few moments later and he grabbed the sides of the pedestal. "Lillymon!" he gasped in horror, for he could see in the water a small, slight humanoid figure that had been thoroughly cocooned in what looked like spider silk, wrapping up its entire body from feet to face, so that only the eyes and the top of the head were visible, but the pink flower that stuck out the top told him clearly who it was.

Lillymon had been strung upside down in her cocoon from the branch of a tree and her eyes were filled with nothing but sheer terror as a huge spider seemed to be leering into her face in some strange spider-like way, waving its palps in front of her eyes menacingly.

"What about that?" Beelzemon cried. "Is that the present or is that the future? Lillymon might be in trouble right now!"

"You must keep watching," Galadriel said simply. "The Mirror shows not the chronology of events. And when it shows the future, it may show many possible futures after another, though what is shows is _never_ certain."

Beelzemon almost retorted but realised that would be a stupid idea, for he had no information to go on beyond that this _might_ happen in the future at some point if it was not happening already. He knew there was nothing he could do about it and he felt quite helpless, but he decided that Galadriel was right. If that was happening to Lillymon right now then he could not help her and he needed to see further to find out what might lie ahead for the group.

So he fixed his eyes back on the bowl as the picture changed again and began to cycle through a bunch of strange images that made absolutely no sense to Beelzemon whatsoever.

He saw Dorulumon once more, but this time he was facing off against what appeared to be a very large animal, a wolf like himself but with brown and shaggy fur and was even slightly larger, the two of them circling one another and evidently growling, with lips pulled back and vicious teeth bared, before they simultaneously flung themselves at one another.

Before they made impact the image changed once more to a shot of Ballistamon with his hefty red hands placed against what seemed to be a giant wooden gate and pressing himself against it, surrounded by humans as the gate bucked against them, something on the other side trying to force its way through.

Then, to Beelzemon's horror, he could see Bastemon. Her back was to him and she looked dreadful, sitting slumped on the ground with all her jewellery missing and her head bowed while a pair of figures that Beelzemon could not make out stood over her.

Then the Mirror was showing Beelzemon himself, hovering in front of something which looked like a towering pillar of ash or dust roiling with flames. Beelzemon could see the roar on his face as he surged towards the obscure thing with cannon raised and letting off a giant blast with it.

Then suddenly it was Dracomon, and the small dragon Digimon appeared to be fleeing for his life, ducking through a tiny space as huge clawed foot stamped down where he had just been and rolling around a corner as an armoured tail crashed down and smashed the wall he was now behind to fragments.

Then Sparrowmon could be seen in the shot, battered and looking quite damaged but with nothing life threatening, but she appeared to be on the ground and there were tears streaming down her face as she howled silently to the sky.

Suddenly Mervamon took her place and the powerful Amazon woman was clearly in the middle of a full-scale battle, her sword cutting straight through several enemies while her Medullia grabbed a lot more. She appeared to be fighting alongside a figure in greenish leather, who was jabbing another disgusting looking creature in the gut with a sword of its own, the two of them working together to hack at enemies from all sides.

Shoutmon took the next slot and Beelzemon could see his face screwed into a mask of fury as he clenched his fist and shook with rage, before pointing at something that Beelzemon could not see and screaming words that he could not make out.

Then there was Lunamon, who was talking to some bow-legged humanoid being clad only in a loincloth and was determinedly not looking at her. Lunamon seemed to be trying to engage him in some sort of friendly conversation but the creature rounded on her and bared what few teeth it had left, scaring her and making her back away.

None of these images were really making much sense to Beelzemon – they just seemed to be something like a series of clips from a film without really explaining the plot or the meaning behind them. There were a couple of other bits to be seen after that, like Spadamon sneaking through what looked like a dark hallway, the numerous Gaossmon charging down a hill at the same pace of a large group of horses and Greymon swinging his tail up to smash through a rock that had been flying through the air straight at him. But there was still nothing that looked like anything that he could slot alongside something else and have it make some form of sense.

"I really don't understand the point of this," he said with a slight frown. "Don't get me wrong, this might be useful in the long run but it does not help me now. It doesn't tell me where any of my friends are."

"Patience, Beelzemon," Galadriel said. She was no longer watching the sequence of images, but had her eyes closed, but Beelzemon got the impression that she was seeing a lot more than he was at the moment regardless. "Allow the Mirror to reach any true meaning it might choose to give."

Beelzemon hesitated, but then nodded grimly, but so far the only thing he could make out was that the whole team would face numerous trials and battles in their quest to overcome this Sauron guy. He watched a few more of the images flick by, some of which made him worry, others of which heartened him slightly.

But then, slowly, the images took on more of a theme. It started when an image was shown of Shoutmon once again standing beside the white-robed and bearded person before he hopped off a rock and crossed over to another man – a man with dark hair who Beelzemon recognised as being one of Mervamon's travelling companions from before, and reached up to grasp his hand and shake it firmly.

The next image also featured Shoutmon, and seemed to involve him riding on a horse just behind the self-same guy and surrounded by a few others, including Mervamon and Cutemon. Then it shifted to Shoutmon trying to keep the man afloat as he drifted unconsciously down a river, moving on from that to the two of them fighting next to one another on top of a wall that was being swarmed by more of those strange creatures, with the man swinging his sword over Shoutmon's head as Shoutmon slammed more in the face with his microphone and leaned back to pitch a Rock Soul attack at somebody in the distance.

Then Beelzemon could see the two of them standing side by side, the Digimon of a large outcropping so their heads were of similar height and thrusting sword and microphone into the air, while other people whose faces he could not see also thrust their weapons skywards and started cheering without sound.

"Something tells me that that man is quite key to this somehow," Beelzemon said, staring at the person beside Shoutmon. "Who is he? Do you know?"

"I do," Galadriel nodded. "He was one of the last to pass through our woods from the outside. That is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the rightful King to the throne of the country of Gondor south of here. He has been a Ranger of the wild all his life, but in this time of war, he will be needed to step up and lead his people to freedom if Men are to succeed against the forces of Sauron."

"A future King?" Beelzemon asked in interest. "Why did he not reclaim his throne before?"

"He has never wanted the power that the throne wields," Galadriel replied. "He believes that he is not ready and that he can remain in the shadows."

"A King who has doubts about being a King," Beelzemon replied. "I am beginning to see a pattern here."

"Indeed," Galadriel nodded.

"Well then I must find him. I must find out where Shoutmon is and go to him immediately to aid him in his fight. I am only one of two who knows about Shoutmon's doubts about being the King of our Digital World. I need to go to him."

"Hold your rush," Galadriel said with eyes closed. "The Mirror has not finished in its display."

Beelzemon blinked and looked back down into the water, to see that Galadriel was quite right. Now Beelzemon could see himself in the mirror again, flying low over the trees of what looked like a forest. A forest with green leaves instead of golden ones, and he seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry. And then the image rippled away to be replaced with him standing outside a doorway. A doorway that led into what seemed to be somebody's bedroom. Around the edge of the doorway he could see a woman with long dark hair and pointed ears – an Elf – talking to somebody out of sight and Beelzemon appeared to be listening in on the conversation, with surprise clearly evident on his face.

But before Beelzemon could discover anything further the image was replaced yet again with him dodging and weaving with his cannon held high, firing controlled level bursts – he could tell they were controlled level because of their brightness, or their lack of it – at somebody else.

Beelzemon frowned and peered closer to the water, but for some reason the Mirror was choosing not to show him who the figure he appeared to be duelling against was, though whoever it was it was quite fast and capable of dodging Beelzemon's blasts, though looked a bit hard-pressed to do so. And the image of Beelzemon himself appeared to have a grin on his face, as if he was either enjoying the fight. Or at least as if he was pleased about something.

And then, almost immediately after, he could see what looked like some sort of violent battle. A combination of snow and fire seemed to be coating a very large area that was littered with smoking rocks and bits of debris as numerous humanoids dashed about with weapons drawn, two opposing sides slaying one another with ruthless abandon. Beelzemon saw himself jam his shotgun straight into the chest of a squat hideous and snarling creature and emptying a green energy bullet into its chest before a section of wall of a tall, dark building behind him was blown outwards, revealing a faint, barely distinguishable silhouette through the smoke.

But, again, before Beelzemon could make out who it was the image shifted to Beelzemon's face alone, as he turned and gave a thumbs up to whoever it was that had just emerged from the wall.

And then, finally, the image left, and Beelzemon was left staring at his own reflection once more.

"Those were a lot of images," Beelzemon reflected. "But none of them are making much sense to me, I'm afraid."

"The future is never truly defined," Galadriel replied as she stepped away to the mirror, replacing the jug next to the pool where she has picked it up. "Sometimes it can be hazy and difficult for even the Mirror to discern, but this time I believe that the mean is clear. Partially at the very least."

"What do you mean?" Beelzemon asked. "You could tell what those images were referring to? I got that there would be some trials in this adventure for all of us and I am pretty sure that I understand the relationship between Shoutmon and this other King that he entered the picture. I certainly understand why the Code Crown would send Shoutmon here if this is a test. But those final images of me I did not understand at all."

_I cannot say completely,_ Galadriel said, her voice suddenly echoing in Beelzemon's head again rather than coming out of her mouth. _For you shall need to discover your way on your own. But I can sense much purpose for you, Beelzemon. I can sense that not only will Middle Earth need you or that your friends will need you. I can sense that you will have another purpose here besides aiding us in our fight against the forces of darkness._

"Another purpose?" Beelzemon asked, not bothering to try this internal conversation that Galadriel seemed to be capable of. "What do you mean?"

_I speak of your role within your own group,_ Galadriel replied. _Throughout everything since you joined Xros Heart, you have attempted to be the guardian and guide whenever you can, have you not? I believe that that is a role that you will need to take up once again, in order to help not only our world, but your own. And to help your King too._

"Well in that case, perhaps you could tell me where Shoutmon is," suggested Beelzemon. "If you know then I must find him immediately…"

"No," Galadriel said aloud once more, turning back to Beelzemon. "Your path lies not with Shoutmon. Not on this particular journey. Your road will lead down quite a different route. The problem your King has is something that he must overcome on his own. I am referring to another who will need your guidance, Beelzemon. And through guiding this person, you will be helping your King too in the long run."

"I don't understand," Beelzemon protested.

"It will become clear to you in time," Galadriel said cryptically. "That I know for certain. There is information that you have yet to learn which I do not yet know myself, but which would not be my place to tell anyway even if I did. You must discover the truth for yourself."

"Discover the truth?" Beelzemon thought with a frown, his mind flashing back to the image of him standing outside the doorway and his eyes wide as he listened in to something going on out of his sight. Was that was Galadriel meant?

"I do not govern the fate of the world," Galadriel said. "I cannot choose its course. Frustration in the face of the unknown is understandable Beelzemon but you must not lose hope. You will find your way and I shall help you when the time is right. But for now, I suggest that you rest. You have had little chance for it since you arrived here and I fear that soon you will be kept extremely busy."

Beelzemon sighed, but nodded slightly. Galadriel had a point. He had no idea where he was supposed to go in order to find any of his friends and to start a fruitless search now would be worse than useless. Especially without any rest. "Is there anywhere that I can take my rest in particular?"

"The valley of Caras Galadhon is sheltered from all outside threats," Galadriel said. "You may rest at ease in any place that you so choose. But remember this, Beelzemon. You are a warrior of the Goddess. You have trained hard to become good at what you do. And now you must pass on what you have learned to another, to bring that other out of the mire of sadness and loneliness that swaps it."

_That _caught Beelzemon's attention and made him frown. What did that mean? Was she talking about a person from _this_ universe, or a person from his own? She had to be talking about someone from here surely. There was nobody from Xros Heart who felt lonely. There couldn't be. Xros Heart was meant to forge a symbol of unity between every one of its members. Nobody was not on friendly terms with anybody else amongst its ranks. And every one of them had a very close relationship with many others in the group. What cause would any of them have to be sad and lonely?

Beelzemon shook himself. She must be talking about someone from this universe. But then again, how would that help King Shoutmon, even indirectly? He didn't _doubt_ Galadriel's word. In fact he firmly believed her. Anybody who felt like the Goddess that he served must know what they were talking about. She could feel the flow of the world and what path it should take. But that didn't mean any of this made any sense to Beelzemon right now.

"Thank you," Beelzemon said and turned to leaving, spreading his wings to fly out of the hollow instead of climb. As he lifted himself up though, he took a glance back down and faltered for a second, blinking in bemusement. For a split second, he had thought he had seen another image in the Mirror beneath him before it had vanished.

An image of a woman in shining armour standing next to another person wearing bright pink, both with fists thrust into the air and fingers of those fists interlaced as many people around them cheered before the image was suddenly gone.

It had been too fast for Beelzemon to catch a glimpse of either figure closely.

But he was pretty sure that he recognised the second one – the one in pink. If he was right… was that the person who Galadriel had been talking about? And what did any of this mean?

* * *

Well, I suppose you can consider part of this chapter a slight teaser trailer as to a few events that will be taking place in the future, albeit with the fact that I tried to keep the mystery involved in them so that they don't given away the situation completely. I hope that you liked that. As before there was obviously no action but still I think that this chapter proved its point. Beelzemon will be quite an important character to the main plotline of what happens in the north, and I think I dropped enough hints for some people to guess what Galadriel might be talking about. Beelzemon obviously doesn't understand the full situation but maybe one or two of you will. Hehe. Curiously enough I didn't even notice the similarity between Galadriel and the Goddess of the Sand Zone until I put Beelzemon in front of Galadriel and then I though, "Oh wow. That fits quite well." Geehee.

Well, I intend to post the next chapter of QOTG tomorrow and then I'll do my best to get this story's next chapter up for Thursday.

* * *

Next time…

Unaware of the fact that Revolmon has been captured by the Ithilien Rangers, Greymon and Bastemon begin to search for him. But the Rangers that fill the area are hardly about to let a large dragon-like creature stroll up to their base of operations.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 20 : Monster Misunderstanding**


	20. Monster Misunderstanding

Ugh. Yes, yes I know that it's been an entire week since I last updated which is not usually like me at all, but suffice to say there were a number of things that kept me from writing on this chapter, so I apologise profusely for another delay. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter now that I can finally get it put up. I finally got tired of delays and just slammed down most of this chapter today. My elbows are killing me, which just makes me hope that it's worth it all the more.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 20:- Monster Misunderstanding**

* * *

Bastemon was miserable.

She had good reason to be. After all, despite the situation of being stranded in a completely alien wilderness, she had thought that everything was going relatively well. She had two of her friends, who were perfectly capable of fighting, with her so she was not without protection and Revolmon seemed to know what he was doing out in the wilds, so she hadn't been overly worried.

But apparently her relatively relaxed attitude had gotten on the nerves of one of her two companions, the large Greymon. He had suddenly turned around and yelled at her for not taking this seriously and for not pulling her own weight in the group. According to him, she had been expecting them to do everything for her and had been ordering them around, while at the same time she had been taking a far too nonchalant approach to the situation for Greymon's liking.

Apparently going to sleep under a tree was not the first priority right now.

Now she was riding on Greymon's shoulders as the dinosaur went in search of Revolmon, who had gone off to find water and had been overdue to check back, so the big dinosaur was following his trail with his nose. But Bastemon couldn't pay attention, as Greymon's harsh words to her ran through her head multiple times.

"_You might royalty, and you might have had everything you've ever needed or wanted handed to you on a platter in the past, but I'm not one of your staff. We are supposed to be a team."_

"_I can barely remember a time where you were useful during the fight against the Bagra Army. You might not be pompous and arrogant, but you're definitely a complete airhead!"_

"_You are one of the most selfish people I know, expecting everybody to go about your orders on a whim, and yet you don't even know you're being selfish."_

Bastemon winced as every sentence replayed itself in her mind, each accusation flung in her direction hitting her like a piece of iron. She felt a bit sick. She had always known that some of the other members of Xros Heart had found her strange and perhaps a bit quirky but that anybody could think of her like this had never even crossed her mind.

And now one thing and one thing alone was preying on her mind:-

Was he right?

Was Greymon right to make such accusations of her? Had she really been going around with her head in the clouds when she should have brought it back down to earth to focus on the matter at hand? Was she really that demanding?

And she was beginning to get a horrible feeling that she was.

She had been a princess since she had been little. Her father had been a tall and upstanding male Bastemon warrior who wielded a sword in battle and led the forces of the Lake Zone where they had once lived against anything which would seek to harm its citizens. Bastemon had always known that she wasn't a warrior. She was not one for battle, and unfortunately the war with the Bagra Army had called for a lot of battle situations but still… was Greymon right?

She hadn't joined the Xros Heart army because she thought that she would be a useful battler. She had joined because she had wanted to stay close to Taiki, who she had been slightly enamoured with at the time, not realising that a human's concept of male to female integrations was quite different from that of a Digimon's. She hadn't joined it to fight – she'd done it for a selfish reason. And then she'd spent almost all her time in the Xros Loader, and most of her time in there had been spent sleeping. Many times she woke up to find she had missed a very large battle situation.

But that had never mattered much to her since she had known that she was not a warrior.

It was the other things that Greymon had brought up that were worrying her. The bit about just expecting everybody to do what she wanted them to do. And with a horrible sensation of guilt dropping into her stomach she realised that he was right.

Bastemon had been used to having servants from a young age. She could never remember a time where she had been without them, having grown up as a young princess in a castle. She had always had things done her way. When she needed something doing she would call on a PawnChessmon or a ToyAgumon to get it done for her while she dozed on her bed or her throne. She'd rarely had to get up and do something herself… well… ever.

That behaviour had not changed since she had joined Xros Heart. Even at Shoutmon's castle, she was usually waited on everywhere she went, with Knightmon mostly helping to ensure that she was alright while various smaller Digimon bustled about carrying out her will, doing things like brushing her hair for her and bringing her food. And Shoutmon, even though he was the King, didn't do that. He usually went and did things himself when they needed doing. He always had. Bastemon didn't do that. She'd even waited several days before even remembering to hand over the Digi-Memories she'd taken from the castle when she joined Xros Heart.

And Bastemon realised now that she _had_ just been telling Greymon and Revolmon what to do all the time since they had got here. She'd been ordering them around like a pair of her servants, when in fact neither of them were. They were supposed to be team-mates and she was just behaving as if she was back in her bedroom with them at every beck and call.

Now that Bastemon realised the horrible truth of Greymon's words she wondered how many of the others thought of her like this.

Hence why she was miserable.

She just sat there, staring at the back of Greymon's head without really taking in her surroundings dully, picturing in her mind what each of the other prominent members of Xros Heart said about he behind her back. Surely they must think of her as a waste of space – some spoilt princess who slept all the time and did nothing to contribute to Xros Heart's aims when she was awake.

She barely registered the hot tears which spilled from her eyes and dropped down her face to land with faint plop on the back of Greymon's head.

Greymon, on the other hand, did register them. At first he looked up to see if it was starting to rain but when he saw the clear skies he guessed where they had actually come from. He felt a small ball of shame appear in his stomach. He really shouldn't have flown off the handle like that. Yes, everything he had said about Bastemon was true and needed to be said. She had needed to realise that this situation was serious and make sure that she actually started doing something helpful rather than just hindering their progress.

But she hadn't even realised it about herself. He could have handled the situation a little more… delicately. A bit more gently.

But he hadn't. He'd just roared at her so loud the forest shook.

He sighed a little and said, "You alright back there, Princess?"

Bastemon barely heard him, but she mumbled something that sounded like, "Mfn."

Greymon wrinkled his nose and said, "Look, erm… you know I'm not very good at this sort of thing. If you want to talk about emotions then you need to talk to Deckerdramon but the rest of Blue Flare… we're not very… subtle. Is that the right word? I'm not sure?"

"Sawrgt," Bastemon muttered unconvincingly.

"I can tell I've upset you," he said anyway. "And I'm sorry. I still think that you needed to know that you're not helping us at all but I didn't think about what I was saying."

Bastemon said nothing. Greymon sighed and followed Revolmon's trail around another corner, before he said, "Look, princess, give me something here. I'm just as bad at apologising as I am about being gentle. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings in that way."

"No, no," Bastemon said, sniffing and wiping her eyes on her furry sleeve. "It's… it's okay. I understand why you said it. I think. We… we are lost in a strange place where we don't know what's waiting out there for us and I was just trying to get to sleep in the shade. And… and you were right. I didn't even realise it until you said it but… I shouldn't treat you like my servants. It's not right for me to order you about."

"Princess, I will still protect you with my…"

"No, just listen please," Bastemon whimpered. "Who am I to just ask you guys to look after me and expect you to go obeying. Both of are far better members of Xros Heart than I am. I think the only real achievement I pulled off myself was to eat that Chuchumon that was guarding Yuu. I'm still not sure what came over me when I saw that creature but that's all I can claim about really achieving on our long mission. But you guys did so much more than me.

"Especially you Greymon – you're the only one besides Shoutmon that ever achieved a Super Digivolution."

"Technically MailBirdramon was a part of that too," Greymon said.

"Perhaps, but still…" Bastemon sighed. "You're a much more worthy member of Xros Heart than I ever was."

Greymon felt a bit uncomfortable again, not sure what he was meant to say in this kind of situation. He was no _good_ at this. It was his lack of tact when it came to situations like this which had upset Bastemon in the first place. He just sighed to himself and said, "Let's just find Revolmon and be on our way." He felt that he should be comforting her a bit more but he couldn't figure out how the heck he was supposed to go about it.

Bastemon just sniffed and nodded, even though Greymon couldn't see it, lost in her own thoughts about her near uselessness to the team that was Xros Heart. She just couldn't stop thinking about it, and it was something that had never concerned her before, or even really crossed her mind. Was her mindset really that out of place? It was a shocking thought that she could be so demanding on everybody and not even realise it.

And so she sat there and sniffed while Greymon trudged on through the bushes, both of them completely unaware of the fact they were being watched by an increasing number of eyes.

The Rangers of Ithilien knew their craft well. They had had many years to practice and perfect the art of stealth. They would never be able to compete with an Elf, but they were incredibly hard to notice to most beings, especially if they didn't even want to be noticed.

And right now they didn't. Not only did their clothing allow them to blend into the environment while their agile, light feet made sure they created little to no sound as they stepped along, but they also had pasted themselves with berries of a particularly ripe-smelling variety in order to ask their scent. If they had not done this then Greymon would have detected them by now, but they were prepared for creature's with excellent noses like him. After all, their enemies often had many creatures with a good sense of smell.

The bird calls that they were making to one another to keep in contact and send signals were allowing them to report on the progress of the intruders to their domain with little difficulty, and Greymon was paying them little mind, believing them to be the generic noises of the local fauna as was the intention behind them.

* * *

Over by the Forbidden Pool – the large body of water at the bottom of a cliff with a waterfall crashing down into it, the Ranger who went by the name of Damrod took in the message and hurried into one of the hidden crevices that would take them inside the cliff itself, concealed behind the waterfall.

It was a place that the men of Gondor referred to as Henneth Annûn, the Window on the West – so named because the waterfall flowing over the entrance to one of the caves gave it the appearance of a window.

And it was also one of the Rangers' main secret outposts.

And currently there was one other being besides the Rangers of Gondor who was inside the place.

Revolmon was not particularly happy about his current situation. When the Rangers had surrounded him they had been unsure what to do with the strange new thing, so they had taken both of his guns off him because they weren't sure what they were supposed to be, carrying them like they might go off at any moment which they very likely could if they were handled incorrectly.

And now he was seated in a chair, hands tied behind him, and having what could not really be called a 'friendly' chat with the person who seemed to be the leader of these green-robed men. Captain Faramir, as he had called himself.

"You would make it much easier on yourself, creature of Sauron, if you would just tell us something that makes sense," Faramir was saying. "Tell us what you are, how you came to be in this place, and if you are able, you can tell us as much of Sauron's plans for this world as possible."

"Look, I've already told you," Revolmon muttered. "I am not a creature of Sauron. I don't even know what a Sauron is, though I imagine that whatever it is, it isn't very good for you guys. Anyway, I am a Digimon, as I already said, and I don't even KNOW how I got here. That's all the answers I can give you to those three questions."

"Deception is rife in the lands these days," Faramir stated. "If you think yourself capable of matching up to the cunning with your words then you are sadly mistaken, Digimon. If that is how you pronounce what you are. We have never seen a being such as yourself before, therefore it is highly likely that you are a minion of the Dark Lord."

"I don't _do_ Dark Lords," Revolmon shook his hatted head. "They give me a headache and they never ask for anything that you would want to give them. Mean the last one that I encountered was hell-bent on destroying everything around him so who can tell what runs through the heads of any others."

"You speak in riddles, strange creature," Faramir observed.

"Riddles? I'm not talking in riddles at all, though I do know a few good brain-teasers that I could tell you if you were interested that should get the old head going. Like this one – four men are walking home in heavy rain and one of them has an umbrella that can fit no more than three underneath it so…"

"Stop," Faramir cut him off before he could finish. "I am not interested in your games, creature, only in the truth. Somehow you managed to find yourself right up next to the lake where we make our base of operations and I don't believe that you just managed to stumble across it, which must mean that your master knows more about us then we thought. How much can you tell me?"

Revolmon said nothing for five whole seconds. Then, he said:-

"…so how does the fourth man get home without getting his hair wet when the he also doesn't have any waterproof clothing and nothing else that he can use to shelter from the rain?"

"I believe I asked you not to keep up with this," Faramir grunted.

"Oh, go on. You can get it. It's an easy one I decided to go with for your first round."

Faramir stared at Revolmon in disbelief.

"No?" Revolmon asked. "Ugh, what's wrong with people these days – never engaging their brains enough with anything anymore – even Digimon older than me. The answer is because the fourth man is, of course, bald, so he doesn't have any hair to get wet. You get it?" he chuckled. "A bit like this."

He pulled his hands from out behind his back, startling Faramir and causing his hand to fly for his sword as the ropes which were meant to be holding them fell to the floor, and Revolmon raised his hat respectfully, showing his round, hairless head. "Howdy do," he chuckled.

"How did you…" Faramir blustered.

"Child's play," Revolmon shrugged. "I'm a treasure hunter, you see – I've roamed far and wide in search of the most elusive of treasures and encountered many things on my travels. Picking locks is an essential skill and escaping from ropes is not that different. And easy enough if they're not applied in the right way."

Faramir frowned at him and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed and made a mental note to make sure that it was locked from the outside when he went back through it and had a bar on it for good measure, to keep this guy from getting out. He then shook his head and said, "You are certainly very strange, I'll give you that. And more well-spoken then your orc brethren."

"My what brethren?" Revolmon blinked. "I really don't know what that's supposed to mean but I have never heard of an orc before. I've only ever associated with two kinds of being – other Digimon and humans like you?"

"What did you call me?" Faramir asked, folding his arms. "If that is some sort of vile insult in your tongue then you would do well to remember who is the prisoner here."

"I could break out of here if I wanted to," Revolmon shrugged. "But you've really got the wrong end of the stick and I might hurt someone in the process. Besides, I didn't call you anything. I just said you were a human, which you are. You are, right?"

"I am a Man."

"Right, so you are a human."

"No, I am a Man."

Revolmon frowned. "Why do I get the feeling that this could go on for a while?" he asked himself. Then he shook his head and said, "Whatever, I still say that you're a human. The tallest human I've ever had to deal with too, might I add."

"You are the one of small stature here," Faramir pointed out.

"Thank you so very much for pointing it out," Revolmon folded his arms.

Faramir frowned as if a thought had occurred to him. "Is it possible that you are akin to the Dwarf as an Orc is akin to the Elf. Are you the result of some of Sauron's experiments of Dwarves?"

"I really don't know whether to be offended by that or not," Revolmon muttered. "Look, I'm sorry for barging in on your turf but I didn't know that anybody was here. Now, would you let me go? I really need to get back to my companions – I'm already overdue by some stretch and they'll be worried about me. And I can get them to change direction and go someplace where we won't ever stumble on one of your bases again."

Faramir shook his head. "You will not be permitted to leave here. Now that you know where we are we cannot let you go running off to report back to whomever you may work for."

"Well that was stupid of you wasn't it?" Revolmon sighed, exasperated. "I had absolutely no idea that there was even a base behind this waterfall. If you hadn't interrupted me then I would have gone trundling along and never been the wiser."

"We could not take the risk," Faramir said, a little defensively. "Nor could we allow a creature like you to go un-investigated so we decided that interrogation would be our best method of learning what you are. But you appear to be no closer to divulging any of the answers that I seek."

"Look – tell me something," Revolmon was getting annoyed now. "Why are you so convinced that I am the bad guy here?"

"According to my scouts you were first spotted in the company of a dragon," Faramir said sharply. "A wingless, two-legged dragon but a dragon nonetheless. There is only one master in these areas that a dragon would serve and that is Sauron. Therefore if you were in its company then you too must be a minion of Sauron."

"Are you talking about Greymon?" Revolmon blinked.

"If that is the name of your blue-scaled dragon friend then yes," Faramir confirmed.

"But he's not a dragon," protested Revolmon. "Well… not technically. He could be classed in the dragon Digimon variety I suppose but he's actually a dinosaur Digimon. Besides, he's harmless enough unless you threaten him or the people he happens to know. Like, say… me."

"Is that some sort of threat?" Faramir asked coolly.

"No, I'm just saying that Greymon might take this whole capture and imprisonment thing the wrong way," Revolmon replied. "I mean, how many ways are there to take something like this? I myself am struggling to work out why you think I'm such a threat to you. We're not exactly from around her but I can tell you that we have nothing to do with this Sauron person that you keep on talking about."

"Dragons have long been the enemies of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth. All kinds of dragons. You cannot tell me that this one will leave us alone if it knows that we are there. And what of this other being which I hear you are travelling around with. The one which is, according to our descriptions, a cat woman?"

"Cat woman?" Revolmon snorted. "You mean Bastemon? Now come on – she's not a threat to anybody… unless you happen to be a mouse. I will never be able to blot out what happened on that day…" he shuddered and placed his hands over his eyes as if that would make the memory of Bastemon devouring a mouse four times bigger than her would vanish from his mind's sight if he did so. "But other than that she wouldn't hurt a fly. Literally. I don't think she has the capacity. She's probably still asleep for all I know."

"Well," muttered Faramir. "You certainly seem to be open and honest. But reports claim that she was seen riding the dragon. How is that possible? Dragons do not let people ride them. At least I have never heard of such a case in all of recorded history."

"Well, it could be something to do with the fact that Greymon is NOT actually a dragon," Revolmon repeated again, somewhat exasperatedly. "Why don't you just believe me? I mean, really – if I was a minion of his Dark Lord guy then I could have probably killed you a hundred times over during this conversation. After all, my main weapon has been pointed at you this entire time."

"Weapon?" Faramir suddenly tensed. "What weapon?"

"What weapon? What do you mean what weapon? Surely you don't think this is just for show?" He patted the giant revolver that made up a part of his body. "You took away my two smaller guns but you can't take away this big one. It's a part of me."

Faramir drew his sword and pointed it at Revolmon. "What is a gun?"

"What is a… you don't know what a gun is?" Revolmon gasped. "What kind of crazy, primitive world have I gone and landed myself in? Everyone should know what a gun is by now. It's a weapon."

"Then you shall turn around slowly," Faramir stated. "And give me a demonstration of how it works."

Revolmon sighed. He could just as easily use the weapon on this guy right now – his sword would do nothing against his Justice Bullet attack. But that wouldn't be right. Despite the annoyance that his sudden capture was turning out to be he could tell that this Faramir seemed to be a good guy. Revolmon had dealt with some pretty shady characters before he had joined Xros Heart and knew a good guy when he saw one. This Faramir was obviously doing his duty as a captain and looking after his men so mowing him down would not be fair.

"Fine," Revolmon muttered. "But I already get a feeling that I know where this is going." But he turned around regardless and, without the need for crying out the command phrase as he normally would when giving his attack, he let off a shot with a loud crack. The large energy bullet flew out of the barrel of the gun and before Faramir could even gasp it had hit the opposite wall with another crack, leaving a large, smoking dent in the rock. An ordinary bullet would not have done such damage, but Revolmon was Revolmon after all. Digimon were usually made to be destructive.

Faramir only took a moment to recover from the shock before he lunged forwards and placed the tip of his sword at the back of Revolmon's head, since he had no visible neck to place the weapon against. "What was that?" he asked.

"That was a Justice Bullet," Revolmon said brightly, trying to make light of the situation. "See, I could have used that on you anytime I liked and you would never have known what I was going to do until it was too late. Do you really think that I am still a member of the forces of this Sauron guy now?"

"I do not know what you are," Faramir replied stonily. "But if you have such a weapon built into your own body then you can only have come into existence as a result of black sorcery."

"Oh come on. Really?"

"Lord Faramir!" cried a couple of other men as they stormed into the room. "We heard a noise."

"Yes, it was the prisoner," nodded Faramir, pressing the sword-point closer to the back of Revolmon's hands. "This one will be tricky to keep detained but it is not giving me the answers I want. It is being remarkably uncooperative."

"No, I think you'll find that's _you_," Revolmon muttered.

"Silence," Faramir said immediately. "Take him and bind his hands once more, but this time make sure that he can't reach any knots to get free if you can. Then I want you to keep watch on him at all times, but do _not_ let him point that long silver part of him towards you. It was that thing which made the noise _and_ that hole in the wall."

"Oh, give me a break, please," Revolmon sighed as the men quickly stepped forward to carry out Faramir's orders, once they had finished staring at the still smoking hole in the wall that Revolmon had just created.

Faramir watched them as they quickly restrained Revolmon again, before he said, "I am going to hear the reports on the situation. Make sure he does not escape. He seems to have a talent for it if he can slip out of his previous bindings so easily."

The guards drew their blades and nodded grimly, holding them ready in case Revolmon tried to turn around. Faramir watched carefully himself for a few more seconds before he strode out of the room. "I want this door locked and barred at all times," he said as he shut it behind him. "And nobody is to stand directly in front of it, you hear?"

"Captain Faramir," Damrod came hurrying up to him a few moments later. "Our scouts report that the dragon is nearing our location. It appears to be following the trail which the prisoner himself took. Seems to be using its sense of smell to guide it on the exact same route."

Faramir's jaw clenched. "If it continues along that path then it will no doubt find its way directly to our stronghold here. We cannot allow ourselves to be discovered by something like this dragon."

"You orders, sir?" Damrod asked.

"We'll treat this as we do with all other invasions," Faramir said. "Gather up all available Rangers and tell them we are heading out immediately. Find Madril and tell him to come too. We'll set up an ambush for this dragon. What trajectory is it currently taking?"

"It's currently heading north," Damrod replied. "The scouts say that it will encounter the stream sometime within the next half an hour."

"We'll have to choose an ambush sight when we get there," Faramir said grimly. "Come on. Let's move."

And shortly afterwards the entire place became a bustling hubbub of activity as the Rangers grabbed their bows and holstered their arrow quivers and hurried out to defend their homes against the giant creature that was wandering towards them.

* * *

"What was that?" Bastemon suddenly asked, perking up slightly and her ears twitching as she listened to the wind. Greymon pulled to a halt when she said that and raised his head, listening himself, but nothing came to his own ears in the sudden silence except a few strange bird calls.

"What was what?" Greymon asked.

"I'm pretty sure that I just heard something like a gunshot," Bastemon breathed. "Very faint and quite muffled but it's definitely the sound I heard. Just the one though."

"Are you certain? I heard nothing," Greymon pressed.

"I think so," Bastemon said. "Do you think that Revolmon could have gotten into some kind of trouble. He's the only one of us with a gun."

"He _is_ a gun," Greymon muttered. "He is literally a walking gun. But I didn't hear anything. Still, I suppose your ears are better than mine, and if Revolmon was alright he probably would have got back to the campsite by the time he was supposed to be there. We can only assume that something _has_ happened to him.

"Oh, poor guy," Bastemon murmured. "He's out there all alone and…"

She trailed off. Greymon didn't feel the need to elaborate on the fact that Bastemon had been the one to casually send him out there. He was pretty sure that Bastemon had just realised it herself, and he was right. Bastemon was now thinking about how horribly careless she had been and how little thought she had put into the safety of their team-mate. So this meant that not only was she just expecting everyone to obey her, she was doing a horrible job at that too.

"Revolmon," she muttered. "I hope you're okay."

"Well, we'll have to find out," Greymon said. "I'll pick up the pace and keep following his scent."

Bastemon nodded, but in the second where Greymon was still not moving afterwards she thought she heard a twig crack nearby and her head shot around towards the noise. She also noticed there was a slight lull in the calls of the birds which had been going on around them since Greymon stopped. But then the dinosaur moved away again, his heavy footfalls causing deep rumbles wherever he trod as the noises of the birds increased again slightly.

Bastemon fought the urge to salivate a little. Princess or not, she was still a cat, and for some reason the thought of small birds made her feel hungrier than she had already been before. But, come to think of it, had she actually _seen_ any of the birds that were doing those calls? She didn't think she'd actually seen a single bird since she'd gotten here.

They were probably keeping away from Greymon, she thought to herself. Yes, that made sense. He could be pretty scary after all.

And so the two of them kept going, moving downhill through the trees which Greymon was having to keep moving around so that he could follow the lingering trail of Revolmon's scent through the bushes and foliage down the slope.

"This is getting quite irritating," Greymon grumbled. "Why all these small trees so close together anyway."

"It looks like it widens out up ahead," Bastemon said, trying to be helpful in light on their previous conversation about herself. Greymon grunted and kept going, moving towards what looked like a shallow valley that Revolmon had apparently gone through.

* * *

With his hood pulled up and his bow gripped tightly in his hand, his arrow already notched the string and his fingers curled around it ready to pull back and release at any moment, Faramir crouched in the bushes on top of one of the valley walls. The group of Rangers had divided and quickly moved out to find the optimal positions to set up their ambush and they had chosen this place as the site for the attack. It would give them the higher ground in the inevitable attack.

The higher ground was always key in setting up a successful strike. The Rangers knew this – they had been parts of several skirmishes in the last month against large forces that moved up through their lands towards the Black Gate. But this time they were nervous. This was the first time that any of them had ever gone up again or even _seen_ a dragon. They all knew they still existed in this world, but they were still only creatures that anyone alive in Gondor had only heard of the old tales.

With Madril by his side, Faramir made a swift call with his mouth, saying without words for everyone to hold their nerve, and he turned to listen to the other signals coming in, all clarifying that the dragon was indeed heading their way and looked like it would be descending through the valley. The Rangers began to fan out, taking up various positions up right across the higher ground, moving out into the woods to try and get behind their target as well as moving further of ahead to increase their collective range of fire.

Faramir was a little nervous himself, but he could not let that show and his finger tightened still further on his bowstring when he heard the sounds of footfalls coming there was and he spotted shaking tree-tops from wherever the creature brushed up against one of the trees.

"Hold," he muttered, crouching lower to the ground and pulling his black mask up over his face to hide everything but his eyes in the shadows, while the other Rangers around him followed his lead.

And then Faramir saw their quarry moving out into the open. Despite himself, he felt his breath leave him as he beheld the creature. He'd seen bigger animals, or rather one particular kind of animal that grew bigger than this one, but he had to admit that this was quite a magnificent creature. It's powerfully built legs and body crushed through the undergrowth as it moved and its huge jaws held many huge pointed teeth. And its horns looked like they could do some serious damage if it decided to charge something with them, particularly the one on its nose which did indeed appear to be made of metal.

"It seems that the reports were not exaggerated after all," Madril muttered, sounding equally awed.

"Indeed not," Faramir breathed. "And there is the other one right there on its shoulders. A cat woman indeed."

"Yes," Madril nodded as they both gave Bastemon the once over. They'd never seen anything like her either, her long claws and ears and twin tails contrasting with her tall frame and long red hair to create a combination of two creatures that neither of them had thought possible.

"What are we to do about her?" Madril asked.

Faramir grimaced. "Spread the word. I don't want anybody to shoot her if they can avoid it. If we manage to bring down her dragon mount then we may be able to capture her and take her in for questioning with the other one. If not then we will have driven her away too."

Madril nodded and passed the word along and soon a series of complex calls and discrete hand signals across the gaps passed the word around. Faramir then drew back the arrow on his bow and waited for the dragon to get in the optimum position. The Rangers watched in silence as it moved past their first lines, not seeing them thanks to their amazing camouflage.

"Wait for it," Faramir muttered.

* * *

Greymon suddenly pulled to a stop and looked up, sniffing the air slightly.

"What's wrong?" Bastemon asked.

"I am getting a feeling of unease," Greymon snarled lightly. "There is something about this place which I do not like, though I do not know exactly what it is."

"I don't see anything," Bastemon looked around, cocking her ear.

"Neither do I," Greymon snorted. "But there is still something off about this."

"Should we double back and go around?"

"I don't know how long it would take me to pick up Revolmon's trail again if we did that," Greymon shook his head. "Just stay alert. If you can put off going to sleep again for a little longer that is."

Greymon had meant that last sentence to be a little light-hearted joke, but his voice and talking mannerisms didn't pull off the desired effect and Bastemon thought that he was poking another jibe at her.

She bit her lip and swallowed to prevent herself from sniffing loudly at the supposed insult and she nodded and said, "Okay." There was a slight tremor in her voice and Greymon picked it up, but his own sense of unease drowned out any thoughts he had about rectifying the situation as he pushed further into the valley, inhaling deeply to draw in the scents around him and try to detect anything wrong.

As usual there was nothing.

But Greymon knew that that did not always meant that something was not there.

And, shortly afterwards, he was proven right, when he stepped up close to the middle of the ravine and an arrow suddenly zipped out of nowhere and thunked into his side. Greymon roared at the sudden pinprick and spun around to stare at the offending item lodged in his side. His skin was covered in tough scales, meaning that the arrow had not gone in very deep, but the scales were not tough enough to stop it completely.

"Ambush!" Greymon roared. "Get down!" Bastemon obeyed instantly and flattened herself against his back and not a moment too soon, for suddenly a large volley of arrows came zipping out of seemingly nowhere on either side of the two and swarmed them like a bunch of angry wasps. Most of them were very accurate and punctured Greymon's skin, though Greymon was not exactly a difficult target to hit.

Greymon snarled, his teeth baring as the arrows flew around him and a moment later he was in motion. He did _not_ like it when he was attacked, particularly in a manner such as this where the opponent was too cowardly to face him head on. He could not see where the attackers were, but he was not about to stand around and make himself an easy target. He suddenly thundered forwards and several arrows whooshed into the ground where he had been, barrelling down the valley at high speed as he tried to pick out where any of them could be.

But he could still see nothing. It was as if the arrows were appearing right out of thin air. The shrubs and trees around them were masking everything from his sight, but Greymon knew now that there was something to see in there.

Alright, if they refused to come out and play, he would just have to come to them.

"Cowards!" Greymon roared, lifting his metal-ended tail. "Get out here and face me!" And he suddenly spun around on the spot as he approached two larger trees and slammed each other them with his powerful tail, tearing them up from the roots and sending them flying through the air towards either side of the walls of the ravine.

"Watch out!" cried a voice and Greymon's head snapped around as one of the trees crashed on its side near the top of the rise and several small figures in green were suddenly seen scurrying or diving out of the way before they could be crushed. Greymon snarled, ignoring the multitude of arrows that continued to thunk into his body and dashing straight up towards the fallen tree, fire leaking from his jaws and he prepared his next attack.

"He's coming towards us!" Faramir cried. "Get back!" he lifted himself up and threw himself backwards, fitting and arrow to his bowstring as he jumped over a rock and turning to fire at the oncoming reptile as he came. The arrow slammed into Greymon's muscled shoulder but failed to go in too deeply, hanging there slightly limply as Greymon angrily kept coming.

"Fire attack!" cried a ranger as they quickly scattered under Greymon's charge.

"**MEGA FLAME!"** Greymon bellowed and unleashed a sudden jet of purplish flames from between his teeth that impacted on the ground behind the retreating rangers, who he still couldn't make out clear, thrust from his mouth like a high-pressure hose to wash over the undergrowth and instantly set it alight. Faramir and the others were astonished at the power – they had all heard about dragons breathing fire but they had never seen it until now.

"Hold your ground," Faramir cried. "Stay hidden amongst the trees. Aim for its head and its chest. We can bring it down it we hit something vital!"

The men seemed to take some heart from his words and crouching low in the bushes, firing through the thicket of flames that were hungrily eating into the turf. Some of the arrows caught fire as they flew and lanced out in a wave to sting at Greymon, but the dinosaur had heard Faramir's shout and had turned slightly to cover himself with his back and tail, the arrows thudding into him but failing to do much damage.

Bastemon whimpered and cowered behind Greymon's horns as one of the flaming arrows zipped straight past her and nicked her spotted clothing, tearing a slight hole in it but failing to hit her actual skin. Still, the material caught fire and Bastemon yelped and slammed a paw down over it before the smoulders could build up to something much larger.

Greymon didn't seem to notice and screamed, "Get out here and face me head on!" he roared. "You attack like weaklings from the bushes. If you're going to launch an attack against someone then do it with guts!"

His only reply was more arrows, and his eye narrowed. "If you insist!" he snarled and without thought for anything except the fight he suddenly whirled about and charged straight through the flames he had just made, immune to their burning effects around his feet as he rushed into the shrubs on the other side, lifting up his tail. **"BLASTER TAIL!"** he roared, and began to almost impossibly spin his enormous bulk on the spot, swiping his tail through the bushes around him but not managing to hit any of his opponents.

But the finished of the attack was when he lifted the tail, which had gathered power in its metallic tip, and slammed it with full force into the ground, generating a small localised shockwave around him which threw several of the men around him off the feet and sent them flying, tossing them right of the ground to roll away into the bushes.

Faramir was one of those caught in the blast but he managed to roll on his shoulder and scramble back onto his feet. This had not gone to plan at all. Usually when they attacked something large it panicked and would rush around wildly trying to locate its attackers before it decided to just flee and ran off, but this dragon had located them quickly and he was in danger of losing a good number of his men to its ferocity. He didn't think it had succeeded in killing anyone yet but if he did not do something then surely many of them would perish.

"Fire at will!" he cried to the entire battlefield. "Aim for the eyes! And never mind about not hitting the cat woman now – just bring it down!"

Greymon heard his shout and was in the middle of turning to face the voice which seemed to be the leader of the group he was fighting, but the words 'never mind about not hitting the cat woman' caught his attention. For a brief moment in his battle-fury he had totally forgotten that Bastemon was still on his back, and he was now aware of her whimpering behind him and trying to make herself as small as possible.

He stopped, for a moment indecisive. He had a burning desire to sort out those who had dared to try a sneak attack on him – he was convinced that Shoutmon's ferocious attitude on the battlefield was getting to him – but right now he had a far bigger duty. He needed to protect the princess, who had never fought a proper battle without being DigiXrosed in her entire life. And she was vulnerable here. How long before one of the arrows hit her?

As if to answer his question the wave of arrows increased again, and another rain of arrows can flying in from the other side of the valley, tearing through the air towards him. Greymon cursed and hunkered himself low to the ground, bringing his tail up and over in an attempt to protect the princess and shield her from the blows but in the process one arrow caught him in the side of the head and another in the base of his neck, both far too close to his eye for comfort. Without the healing power of Kiriha's Xros Loader in this battle if he lost an eye it would be for good.

But his far greater concern was answered for when an arrow suddenly crashed into the golden band that Bastemon wore around her upper left arm, pinging off it and eliciting a shriek from Bastemon as it whirled to the ground.

That did it. Greymon could not protect the princess here. He needed to get her to safety.

"Hang on, Princess!" he cried, whirling around and slamming his tail through another tree to topple it over and send more of the obscured attackers running for good measure. "I need to get out of here. Stay down."

Bastemon did just that and clung tightly to Greymon and he dashed out of the swam of arrows that were coming from all around him.

He now had dozens of the things hanging from various places on his body but they had hit nothing vital yet thanks to his tough armour, but the fact that nothing had hit Bastemon yet seemed to be nothing short of a flaming miracle. Then again, the archers had apparently been trying not to hit her, but that situation had changed.

"It's retreating!" Faramir cried, helping another Ranger to his feet. "Keep on it! Drive it away if you cannot kill it."

Greymon ran hard back down the slope until he was back in the valley, dashing past the wrecked trees that he had used before and hurrying down the way that he had been going before, following Revolmon's scent once more but at a much faster clip. Arrows continued to flit in from all sides, but Greymon could move at a surprisingly fast pace when he wanted to and most of them either hit him in the legs or the tail or they missed him completely and hit the soil that he had passed by.

"Who are they, Greymon?" Bastemon asked.

"I don't know, but keep your head down!" Greymon instructed. "We're not out of the woods yet."

As if to confirm what he was saying, a sudden volley of arrows came flying overhead from directly in front of them, arcing through the air like a phalanx of tiny planes to coming shooting down towards them like feathered missiles. Greymon knew that some of those were sure to hit Bastemon if they connected so he piled on more speed, while also letting loose another Mega Flame that incinerated many of the arrows on the spot, their flaming remains dropping uselessly to the ground as a pile of ash.

"It's still heading towards the Pool, Faramir," Madril noted as he and the other rangers followed the Prince in a mad dash to keep up with the beast across the top of the rise, all the while as they were falling behind.

"We must stop it from getting too close," Faramir said with a grimace. "Do they have it ready yet?"

"I don't know, Captain, but we must surely hope so."

Faramir grimaced, but they kept running while Greymon ran on further ahead, throwing seemingly random Mega Flames into the bushes on either side of him as he ran, trying to clear his path of any more hidden archers before he reached the spot himself.

Bastemon quailed at Greymon's destructive power. This was something that she would never be able to hope to match and she knew it. But still, Greymon was going all out in his desire to protect her and in a way that just made her feel worse about herself. Even in spite of the danger she could hear Greymon's words from before in her head. If she had just taken things more seriously, if she hadn't sent Revolmon off like this, then perhaps this whole thing could have been avoided.

Perhaps they could have simply passed on and none of this would ever have happened.

"It's all my fault," she muttered so quietly that even Greymon couldn't hear her. "It's all my fault."

"Rgh!" Greymon snarled. "Where's MailBirdramon when you need him?" He swung his tail again into a particularly tall looking tree and too a massive chunk out of the trunk. The tree promptly toppled over and sent a few Rangers scurrying for cover as is branches fell towards them. Greymon set those branches alight with his breath before they crashed to the ground as extra incentive, causing it to form into something like a great big fireball that landed with a thud.

Greymon charged straight through the flaming ruins and the smoke like some kind of monster from hell, eyes burning with the fire reflection and with anger and determination. Normally this would be the responsibility of someone like Knightmon but right now it seemed that he was the only one who could protect the princess.

They came to a more open space and it was there that Greymon encountered the same thin little stream that Revolmon had found. He quickly surmised that Revolmon had come across this and probably followed its course to see if he could find a bigger area for it.

But before he could think on it any further another sudden volley of arrows poured out the trees from across the other side of the bank. Greymon cursed – how long had these assaulters been watching him to be able to set up such a calculated and swift assault from all angles. And how could he not have noticed or smelled them before? He had been extra alert for danger but he has still sensed nothing – but evidently there had been something.

The arrows cut through the air towards them and Greymon launched another round of flames to burn them out of the air, but he was unprepared for the second volley which came lancing towards him before the first had even finished burning. In desperation he bent his legs and pressed his lower body to the ground in an attempt to duck underneath them and for the most part he succeeded but one, single, solitary arrow that had been fired a little lower than the others made contact…

…with Bastemon.

Bastemon suddenly screamed as the arrow buried its tip in her shoulder. Unlike Greymon she had no protective skin, nor did she possess any armour that could have warded the arrow away, so she received the attack like any human would – painfully. The tip lodged itself in an the shaft stuck out at an awkward angle, Bastemon gritting her slightly fanged teeth to try and stop herself from crying out a second time as her shoulder screamed pain at her.

Greymon cursed and angrily fired off another round of Mega Flames right across the river, but did not wait to see if it had connected with anything or not. He simply got up and thundered on, following the course of the river as Revolmon had with a cry of, "Hold on, Princess. I'll get you out of here."

"My shoulder," Bastemon whimpered.

"Don't touch that arrow," Greymon roared at her. "Leave it in until we can find something to treat the wound with!"

Bastemon fought back the tears of pain, knowing that Greymon was far more likely to know what to do than she did, and he had far more arrows still sticking in his body anyway. A few more arrows zipped out of seemingly random places as they ran along, each of Greymon's steps shattering footprints in the stony bank of the stream, which was beginning to widen outwards a little.

"Hold on!" Greymon reiterated.

But at the same time, both of them heard a voice scream the word, "Fire!"

At first Greymon thought it meant another flurry of arrows slowed a little, trying to determine which way the next assault was going to come from so he could avoid it. But it turned out that was the worst possible thing he could have done, as evidenced when Bastemon suddenly screamed, "Greymon! Look out!"

Greymon span his head around just in time to see a huge boulder flying through the air on an intercept course with him as he ran along. He tried to pull to a halt far too late and the boulder slammed right into his flank, ripping a roar and a lot of air out of Greymon's lungs as it rammed him between his arm and leg. Greymon was a sturdily built Digimon and had been hit with a lot worse that this but the heavy projectile still hurt like hell and also made him lose his balance and topple sideways towards the river.

And Bastemon, who had not been holding on as tightly as before due to her injured shoulder, screamed as the boulder narrowly missed hitting her foot and she was then flung right off Greymon's shoulder to land with a splash into the river, which had already widened enough and gotten deep enough for her to disappear under the surface.

"Princess!" Greymon cried, bringing his tail down on top of the boulder lying next to him with enough force to shatter it as he scrambled to his feet, wincing as his side throbbed from the heavy blow but still able to stand with a little effort. The bruise which he knew would develop soon would heal quickly if he could get out of here, but that was going to impede on his speed for a short while. He dashed to the river's edge, trying to locate Bastemon's form beneath the water.

"Fire!" another voice cried, and Greymon looked up to see another boulder come flying towards him, this time from a completely different direction. Greymon snarled and knew he was not about to be caught out by one of those a second time and he charged forwards, ramming the boulder with a powerful blow from his armoured head and breaking it into rubble.

"I don't think so!" he snarled. "Bastemon! Where are you?!"

A second later and Bastemon erupted to the surface some distance ahead, retching and coughing as she flailed wildly at the water, completely panicked and screeching in pain as her shoulder panged at her – the arrow in it already snapped in half. "Greymon!" she wailed. "Help! I can't…" and her head disappeared underneath again with spluttering noise while her arms clawed desperately at the air.

Not all cats are afraid of water. There are many cats that actually enjoy getting wet. But Bastemon was _not_ one of those cats. She enjoyed taking a bath as much as the next princess but in water where she couldn't stand on the bottom, like now, she would go into a full blown panic, like now. She'd never learned to swim in her entire life and in her panicked state all logical thinking had gone out the window.

So while she would ordinarily now that panicked wild flailing was not going to get her anywhere, this was not one of those times. Her fear of water had taken root and all she could do now was scream for help as she fought to keep her head above the surface.

Greymon cursed again and started off after her, but he stumbled a little at the bruise to his side. He shook himself and ignored the pain, crashing down the bank after her almost as fast as he could have done without the injury, hurriedly trying to catch up with her and help get her out. But Bastemon was at the mercy of the water's current, which happened to be quite fast at this particular stage of the river, and she was being washed away at practically the same pace that he could run at.

"Help!" she wailed frantically while gulping in what breath she could the river widening slightly on either side of her and the banks getting further away, out of reach of her thrashing claws as the river firmly kept her in the middle of its narrow body.

"Keep your head above the water! I'm coming!" Greymon roared, furiously blotting out the pain of his injury and piling on more speed.

"Fire!" came the first voice from before and Greymon's head shot around to see the culprit! A large, portable trebuchet had been mounted on top of a rise nearby and there were several of the robed indistinguishable figures clustered around it, having loaded another rock into the sling at the back. As the voice cried out, that boulder was sent flinging straight towards the running Greymon as the counterweight fell down and the sling tossed it into the air.

"No, you don't!" Greymon snarled and spun around on the spot, bringing his tail around and slamming it into the flying rock to splinter it to useless pieces before it could strike into him, before whirling back around to launch a Mega Flame at the trebuchet. The figures around it scattered, bolting into the undergrowth as the trebuchet was blasted into flaming splinters.

Greymon kept running, but that brief altercation had allowed Bastemon to get further away from him and he guessed there was still another trebuchet out here. Greymon hurried on, hoping that the water would slow down enough for him to catch up with its prisoner.

As it turned out, he was wrong, for he shortly spotted the same thing that Revolmon had seen when he had come this way.

"Oh, you are _kidding_ me!" Greymon snarled in disbelief, hurrying still harder to catch up. "Princess! You have to swim! Stop panicking and swim!"

Bastemon only dimly heard his voice through the water clogging her large ears, but she did hear a rumbling noise, aided by the vibrations in the water around her as her head was dunked underneath it again by the current. Struggling wildly she brought her head back up, gulping in precious air, but as the rumble grew louder, she turned to look and her eyes widened, her pupils shrinking in terror.

She was only about ten feet or so from the edge of the waterfall that cascaded over the side of the cliff that Revolmon had tried to find a way down.

Bastemon felt a squeal of fear coming out of her but before it could come out she had been dumped underneath the surface yet again and water poured into her mouth instead, choking her. She coughed and struggled, trying desperately to fight against the current, but it was hopeless.

And as Greymon went all out, putting every spare inch of strength that he could into his legs in order to increase his speed, the second trebuchet, which he had already run past, fired again. This time Greymon was unprepared for it and while the boulder missed his main body it crashed against the back of his left leg and Greymon roared as it knocked his footing from beneath him again and the crashed down onto his side.

Right at the moment that Bastemon reached the edge of the waterfall.

In a mad last bid to keep herself from going over it she clawed at the bottom of the river, trying to latch onto something like a rock but it was no use. She was inexorably dragged over the edge and even the ability to scream was denied her as water crashed into her open mouth and threatened to choke her as she fell.

"NO!" Greymon roared as he scrambled back upwards, his foot buckling underneath him so he almost fell yet again, staring in disbelief at the edge of the waterfall for a second where Bastemon had disappeared. Then his face twisted into a look of fury as he spun around and blindly launched a Mega Flame in the direction of the other trebuchet, not caring if he hit it or not, before he hurried on, trying not to limp as he rushed to the edge.

Bastemon let loose a choking gasp as she fell amongst the curtain of water, but she saw the large pool at the bottom rushing towards her, or rather she was rushing towards it. She only had time to mutter in her mind, _I'm sorry,_ before she slammed into the pool and everything went black.

* * *

Revolmon was still being watched by the two Rangers who had been assigned to guard him. They were standing a little further back now but they were still keeping their swords out and ready just in case he tried anything, while he was forced to kneel in front of a very boring stone wall with his hands firmly linked behind him.

This was getting him nowhere. He needed to get back to his friends and explain to everyone that there was no reason to fear either party but at the moment he had no idea what was going on, so doing anything about it was an exercise in futility. Perhaps he had been too rash in demonstrating his gun to show Faramir that he was no threat after all. In hindsight it probably had not been the smartest thing to do, but he had been desperate to get his point across.

Suddenly a shadow fell past the entrance to the cave outside, falling through the waterfall that was an ever-present noisy background cascading past them.

"What was that?" Revolmon blinked, trying to turn to face it, for he had only seen it out of the corner of his eye, but suddenly the Rangers pressed towards him and had their swords at the back of his neck again.

"Don't even think about moving," one of them said.

"Yeah, I got that but seriously what was that shadow?" Revolmon huffed.

"Probably just a bit of debris from the river above. Happens all the time. Now be quiet."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Revolmon grunted, but then he began to hear a faint noise from up above that sounded like heavy footfalls.

* * *

Greymon reached the edge of the cliff a little unsteadily but planted his injured foot firmly on the ground as he looked quickly over the edge, staring down into the water below and searching for any sign of his companion. There was nothing – nothing for a full ten seconds of staring. The water just collected in the large pool and then flowed out of the mouth at the other edge and continued to flow on as if it hadn't all just fallen off the edge of a cliff, but of Bastemon there was no sign.

Greymon's lips drew back in a furious snarl and he let loose a roar which shook the sky. A roar of anger and despair at his own failure to protect the princess which made the trees down below rattle their leaves at its sheer force.

But Greymon had not given up hope yet. He needed to find a way down this cliff and quickly, but jumping would be out of the question even if he wasn't injured. So he quickly hurried off down the side of the cliff, hoping that there was somewhere that something of his size would be able to scramble down soon.

* * *

"Hey!" Revolmon cried. "That… that was Greymon's roar! I'd know it anywhere. What's going on up there? What are you guy's doing?" He suddenly pushed himself to his feet. "Whatever you're doing you've got to stop!"

Before he could turn around the two Rangers had seized him by his upper arms and were trying to flatten him against the wall, keeping his gun barrel firmly pinned against it where he couldn't use it against either of them. "You're not going anywhere! The Captain still hasn't finished questioning you," said one of them.

"Are you guys attacking Greymon and Bastemon?" Revolmon yelled, lifting his legs and placing them against the wall to push himself backwards. "I told you that they were no threat to you!"

"Stop struggling!" the other Ranger cried. "You're not getting away from us."

"Let me go! You don't understand. Greymon can get very aggressive when he's angry and Bastemon's one of the most innocent things you've ever met. If you guys go attacking them… just let me go out there and stop this before it gets out of hand."

"Stay put!"

"Let go!"

Revolmon and the two Rangers grappled with one another for a while, the Digimon trying to push the two Men backwards and surprising them both with the strength in his slim-looking limbs, but neither side seemed to be able to make much headway. In his frustration, Revolmon quickly let off a shot from his gun, which impacted against the wall in front of him and served to push them all backwards and stumble to the ground.

Unfortunately though, the Rangers decided that enough was enough. As Revolmon struggled to get back up without the use of his hands, the two of them fell upon him. One of them plucked his large hat from the top of his head while the other one slammed the pommel of his sword into the space where it had been.

Revolmon stopped, dazed, and them slumped to the ground. "Ow…" he muttered dizzily. But then the same Ranger struck his head again in the exact same place and Revolmon blacked out.

* * *

It took far longer than Greymon had hoped before he found a place that he might be able to use to get down the cliff-top. It was the same sloped section that Revolmon had used to scramble down earlier in the day, and Greymon could tell that Revolmon had been here – his scent was still everywhere. But right now, Revolmon was not on Greymon's mind. Bastemon was. Revolmon was far more capable of looking after himself.

Ordinarily Greymon would have taken a large amount of time trying to move down such a steep slope, but now he couldn't afford to be slow and he scrambled down it sideways, carefully but quickly placing his large, three-toed feet wherever he could find a decent enough hold. But it was still a treacherous descent and in his haste his injured foot gave out on him as he neared the bottom and crashed onto his side and skidded the rest of the way down, a large tree stopping him from sliding a fair distance when he crashed into it.

But compared to the injury to his foot and his side given to him by the boulders those two things were but trivial and Greymon pushed himself to his feet, trying not to limp as he hastily made his way back the way he had come towards the pool.

When he reached it, he could still smell Revolmon, and he could also smell something else – something extremely familiar, but his brain couldn't place where he had smelt something like that before. But his brain was not actually trying very hard, otherwise he would have been able to place it as a human scent with ease – for the Rangers that had been around here did not always mask their scent with the berries that had stopped him from smelling them before.

Greymon quickly plunged his head into the pool, which was surprisingly clear, but he could make out no sign of Bastemon beneath the surface. There was no broken body lying on the bottom of the pool, but considering that Digimon splintered into data when they died Greymon didn't know whether to be heartened by this or not.

Still, he had to be sure, and he waded out into the pool a little way to overturn some boulders and make sure that there was nothing pinned beneath them, but as he expected, he found nothing. Surely Bastemon would not have been able to hold her breath for so long anyway.

Greymon snarled furiously as he felt the guilt well up inside him. What had he done? He had lost the practically defenceless princess. He had never been very close to her but the fact that one of the last things he had done to her was to scream at her about her airs and graces and everything else that had annoyed him about her before this he couldn't help but feel guilty. No – extra guilty. He was the one who was supposed to be protecting her and he had lost her. Was she even still alive?

No, he must not give up hope yet. He could not detect her scent anywhere, but then again there was water everywhere which would be masking it if there was. He had to keep trying. He had to…

A sudden volley of arrows thundered down from overhead and crashed into his already arrow-ridden body, hitting him in the shoulders and back or bouncing off the top of his armoured head. Greymon roared in anger and looked up, hurling a Mega Flame up at the top of the cliff again before he turned and stormed away into the bushes.

* * *

About half an hour later and Revolmon began to regain consciousness. He groaned blearily as he fought the pounding sensation in the top of his head, screwing his yellow eyes shut as one of the worst headaches he'd ever had seared into his memory.

He could hear voices behind him, but it took him several moments to realise that they were there, and a few more seconds after that before he thought to actually listen to what was being said.

"…that nobody was killed," said a voice that he recognised as Faramir's. "The dragon was one of the toughest adversaries that we've ever had to face. If Sauron has managed to get his hands on more creatures such as that then who knows what might have become of us."

"So it really breathed fire then?" asked one of the guards.

"Yes and it's destroyed quite a large portion of the scrubland to the south. We've got several cases of severe burns and a few fractured bones here and there but nobody has been killed. Like I said, it was a miracle. But I think that we should nevertheless begin preparations for if any more of these creatures show up. We must dig more of those pits that we use to halt the progress of the Mûmakil, and place more of them around this place. This one went right into the Forbidden Pool itself. We can't allow something as dangerous as that to get close again."

"Well, at least we're safe," said another voice.

"Yes," Faramir nodded. "We valiantly defended ourselves on this day and came out of it intact. It does give me some small hope for the future but we still need to be prepared for next time. We may not be so lucky. After all, it did destroy both our trebuchets."

"What…?" Revolmon said blearily as he sat up. "You… you really did attack Greymon? What… what happened?"

"Ah, I see that the creature is awake," said one of the guards. "We had to be a bit rough with it, Captain, after it tried to get away."

"Understandable," Faramir nodded. "You did what you had to do. The sooner we extract the information from this being the better." He then turned to Revolmon and said, "Your dragon friend is still alive, but we managed to drive it away from this place, so I would not count on a rescue from it anytime soon. I'm going to want some more answers about it from you when you're in more of a condition to talk."

"And Bastemon?" Revolmon muttered, wobbling on his knees as the guards came to once again stop him from getting up and turning towards them. "What about her?"

"If you are referring to the cat woman then we are not sure," Faramir replied. "We lost sight of her somewhere during the battle."

Revolmon felt a dull thud in his brain. "Oh hell," he muttered. "What the heck have you guys done?"

"Protected our home," Faramir replied.

"But you didn't _need_ to," Revolmon cried. "You should have listened to me!"

Such was the earnestness in Revolmon's voice that Faramir actually stopped and listened for a moment, hesitating. This creature sounded genuinely worried and upset… something that he would never associate with a spawn of the Dark Lord. It was a little unsettling.

Was it possible? Could such a thing as a good dragon even exist? Had he made a mistake?

Everything he knew about dragons told him – no. He had done the right thing.

So why was he suddenly worried that he was wrong.

* * *

Hours passed, and the Sun was on the last vestiges of its journey through the sky on that day, dropping down the sky until it had almost touched the horizon, before Bastemon finally came to a stop and washed up on the shore of the much wider river. It was a miracle that she was still alive. Somehow the water funnelling out of the Forbidden Pool had flipped her unconscious body onto her back so she had broken the surface a little way out into the river, and she had been floating along ever since.

At the feeling of ground beneath her, Bastemon stirred and suddenly coughed up a small fountain of water that had been trapped in her lungs the whole time, rendering her only just able to breathe. She rolled numbly over and slumped against the bank, unable to find the energy to even crawl up far enough to remove her legs from the water.

But eventually she mustered up enough strength to lift her head and look around. She was nowhere near anything she recognised and while she might still be alive, she was now completely on her own.

And Bastemon had no idea what to do next.

* * *

As usual I shall leave it on a painful cliffhanger ending. Heh. Yes, I know that Faramir made the wrong decision when it came to attacking Greymon but be fair on him – what he knows about dragons is very different from the truth about the Digimon and in his world dragons and everything like them really HAVE been evil creatures, created by Morgoth for that very purpose so as far as he was concerned he WAS doing the right thing.

Anyway, despite its ending I hope you enjoyed the chapter itself. XD But now it is time for the two oneshots which have been waiting in the wings for a long time to finally be written and uploaded, which is what I intend to do before I update either Chapter 21 of either of my two stories. And before anybody asks – no. I am not taking any more oneshots at this stage. Two is enough for the time being.

TTFN.

* * *

Next time…

Following her new eagle companion, Sparrowmon heads east towards the Misty Mountains. But the Eagles of the North are busy with something themselves, for a strange new creature has entered their territory. A blue bird with a body of metal.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 21 : Avian Clash**


	21. Avian Clash

Hello everybody. And here we have the next chapter of this story at long last. If there are any of you who read this but not my other story then I can tell you that my long absence was both due to holiday interruptions, writing oneshots for some of my other readers and hard revising for an important exam which I took last week, along with a filming trip which took up a large portion of my time. But I am back now and I intend to keep on going with this, trying to get out at least ten chapters a month, possibly not including this one due to the late start.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this long awaited chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 21:- Avian Clash**

* * *

Beleram had never been a particularly talkative Eagle. Few of the Eagles were – they preferred to spend their time seeing rather than speaking and most often conversed in their own language rather than reverting to the Common Tongue. Their dealings with the other races of the world had been minimal for a long time now, meaning that they spent most time in one another's company, if that. As a whole, their race maintained a quiet and dignified manner, surveying the world from above, each one like an individual monarch of the sky.

And yet, Beleram was finding that his new companion – the mysterious being that had saved his life known as Sparrowmon, was pretty much the complete opposite. She would not… stop… talking.

And while Beleram felt he would normally be irritated by such a thing, he was finding Sparrowmon's company to be oddly amusing and actually quite a refreshing change of pace from the usual silence that he held during long flights. It was almost impossible to find what she did irritating. She had such a bubbly and infectious personality to her. At least when she was not angry herself.

"…sometimes I wonder what it must be like to have feathers," she was saying, looking at Beleram's broad, brown wings and watching as the feathers slid over one another with each motion to create a flawless and ever shifting carpet that ran along each appendage. "I mean I could never work out exactly why feathers help in keeping people that fly in the air but still… sometimes I think it might be like being covered in a big blanket all the time as opposed to this hard yellow armour that I've got here. What it's like, having feathers? I asked Beelzemon once and he said that he hadn't really given it much thought."

"Well, to be honest, neither have I," Beleram said. "It's always just been a fact of life from me, almost since the day I hatched. Granted back then I was covered in nothing but fluffy down but when my feathers did develop… I still didn't really think about the difference. It is nice I suppose. It keeps me insulated and I admit that I do love the feeling of a good thermal pushing my wings upwards. It's like you're riding on a giant… er… what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Cushion?" suggested Sparrowmon.

"What is a cushion?" Beleram asked, blinking.

"Oh right, you wouldn't have cushions," Sparrowmon giggled. "It's a shame really. You're missing out. I once laid down in Bastemon's bed, which is covered in more cushions than you could possible imagine, and I swear to you it took me a real effort to get back up. It was so comfortable."

"That does not sound like something that I would like," Beleram said, slightly disturbed. "Comfort becoming so great that it stops your core functions?"

"No, no, not that. I just meant it was so nice that I didn't want to get up because if I did I wouldn't get the nice feeling anymore."

"Oh," said Beleram. "Well, while that makes a little more sense, it does not explain to me what a cushion is."

"Let's just say it's a soft object that people can rest upon to make them nice and comfy."

"Well, that does sound a little like a thermal then."

"Exactly," Sparrowmon grinned. "I don't use thermals myself. I can barely feel the things. My jet thrusters are what keep me in the air."

"Your what?" Beleram blinked. "You mean those things in your wings that are spurting light out of the bottom and back?"

"Yeah, those," Sparrowmon nodded. "Essentially it's a special device that pushes against the air around me to forcibly push me forwards or up or down."

"That is both extraordinary and yet ludicrous-sounding," Beleram said. "Essentially you are saying that those things of yours allow you to create your own thermals that point in any direction?"

"Well… something like that, yeah," Sparrowmon grinned. "I can't go backwards though. I don't have any thrusters in the right position to do that."

"You are a riddle, Sparrowmon," Beleram shook his head. "I cannot place a single thought that would describe you in one word. You are so strange in so many ways."

"You know, I could take offence to that," Sparrowmon sniffed.

"Well I did not mean it to be offensive. I am merely stating what I see. Never have I seen or heard of anything even remotely like you in this world. Never have I heard such things as being able to forcibly keep yourself aloft like you do, and yet I can see you doing it. You are moving through the air at high speed and yet you are neither flapping nor gliding. You are pushing yourself through the air and yet it takes you no effort to do so."

"It is complicated," Sparrowmon admitted. "Even I'm not totally sure how my thrusters work. I guess it's like your feathers. I just take them for granted. But trying to explain them to someone, isn't easy."

"Well, perhaps you should think on it," Beleram chuckled. "For I am taking you back towards our eyries in the mountains, where the rest of my kin make their home."

"Are we nearly there?"

"We are making good time. The wind is with us today, which is fortunate, for if it were against us I would have an even harder time flying through it than normal thanks to the slight damage on my wings by those goblin scum."

"Do I even _want_ to know anything more about them?"

"Perhaps we should wait until you and introduced to my kind before we talk more about this place. The others will be able to help fill in any gaps in your mind about this place."

"Then they have a lot of gap to fill," Sparrowmon said gravely. "For this is not my world. I am now totally sure of that. I'm lost in a strange dimension, and I haven't the faintest idea what I'm supposed to do next."

"Confusing as what you say is, you are not lost. Even if you are from another dimension, befuddling and ridiculous as that sounds, you are with me now, and I know full well where I am going. We should arrive back at the Misty Mountains within an hour or so. We've made good time considering we've been flying for almost three already."

"Well that's good news at least. Do you think your friends will have found any of mine?"

"I do not know but I know that if your friends are anywhere within a hundred miles of our roosting site and possibly even further than that, then my kind will be the most likely to have seen them provided they are out in the open."

"Good," nodded Sparrowmon with a grin. "Oh I hope, I hope, I hope that someone else is out there. No offence, you're great company, but I could do with a more familiar face right about now. Just because it would tell me that I'm not the only one of my group that is around here."

"Do not fret yourself," Beleram said, powering his wings forward a little more and wincing at the slight pang above his wing joint from a goblin spear. "The Eagles are a good people. If nobody has seen your friends, I am sure that they, like me, will agree to help you and start a more deliberate search for them. Though you may have to describe what we are supposed to be looking for. Though, on second thought, if your friends are anything like you, then perhaps spotting them might not be so difficult. Especially for we who can spot a rabbit from two miles away."

Sparrowmon giggled. "Let's hope so then. Let's hope so."

* * *

Some distance away, another avian Digimon was watching the Sun as it began to sink down the sky, while he himself was perched on a rocky outcrop that jutted out from the main body of a mountain around three-quarters of the way up, It had not been a particularly proactive day for MailBirdramon so far. In fact, it had been an extremely frustrating one, largely because he had not been able to do anything for much of it.

Though freeing himself from under the pile of snow that had accumulated on top of him when he had landed had not been particularly difficult, the snow itself seemed to have it out for him today, for not long after he had gone flying to try and search for the others, he had flown straight into what appeared to be some kind of mountain blizzard storm. And that had not been good for him in any way.

MailBirdramon was a durable Digimon, but his inability to fold his wings left him with one big disadvantage and that was that if wind somehow hit him on the large flats of his wings it could drastically knock him off course, despite his own jet thrusters. Normally this was not particularly a problem – he could predict winds relatively easily and make sure to avoid them or power through them with his jets, but in a mountain storm things could get very difficult. First, a freak updraft had hit him from directly below when he'd tried to fly between two mountain peaks and had sent him spinning until he almost crashed into a mountain-top.

After that he had decided it might be a good idea to find a place to roost until the storm lifted, for such powerful and unexpected winds might cause him more serious damage next time if he were to crash headlong into something. And it wasn't like he could just pop into a Xros Loader and get healed this time. If one of his wings was damaged here, that was it, really.

So he had waited… and waited… and waited… and all the while the wind had been howling through the mountain passed and shooting past the ledge that he had managed to find for himself, occasionally getting behind his wings and trying to push him off again, but he held him ground. Almost worse was the snow, which was splattered against his body constantly in a wet sheet from the wind and was often flung down on top of him in large clumps from above when more was shaken loose by that same wind.

So help him if another avalanche started and tried to bury him again, he would not be happy.

But he stood there stoically, without any audible complaint, for hours on end, tucking his small head down against his chest to better protect it from the elements that were pummelling at him throughout the whole time. He lost all sense of time after a while, meaning he had no idea exactly how long he had been perched on that ledge before the storm finally, _finally_, lifted. As the clouds had scattered away, MailBirdramon had looked up and prepared his jets to launch himself back into the sky.

Except that he found himself burdened with another problem almost immediately. He hadn't noticed thanks to all the buffeting snow during the blizzard but during his period of in activity on the ledge in the frozen conditions, a layer of ice had formed on his wings and a large portion of his metallic body, formed by the snow turning to water when it hit him and then freezing totally as it dripped down him. Almost instantly as he took to the their he staggered, if that's the correct term for a sudden jerk in the air that almost made him fall out of the sky.

"Sometimes it seems the world is out to get you," he had muttered to himself before he forced himself upwards. The ice was not only making him heavier but it had managed to get into the workings of his thrusters, lessening their output and causing a couple of them to stop occasionally, leading to a sporadic zig-zag flight that MailBirdramon had practically no control over.

Obviously this forced him to land again, but before he did he flew up as high as he dared and tried to locate a ledge that was as bathed in the Sun as possible. And that's where he was now, flaring his thrusters slightly every so often while he turned his body face on to the Sun and waited for the ice to melt. Which was taking its own sweet time considering the area around him was still cold, but the occasion burst from his thrusters helped to speed things along.

"All in all," he said, as he stared at the receding Sun. "Not a brilliant day. No offence to Ice Digimon, but I am beginning to hate snow."

He looked down as his thrusters, which were still dripping away the last remnants of the melted ice, analysing them for any potential damage, but to his satisfaction there appeared to be none. He flared them a couple of times to check their functionality and then launched himself off the cliff, activating them once again and rising into the air without any problems at all.

"Excellent," he nodded to himself. "Looks like the sun's going to go down in a couple of hours or so, if that. This hasn't been the best start at finding out what in the world is going on, and where the others are. I better make use of the remaining daylight and get a move on." And he turned around a shot away over the mountains.

MailBirdramon was capable of moving at incredible speed when he wanted to. He was not as fast as Sparrowmon and she was far more aerodynamic than he could ever hope to be, but he made up for that with his tougher bulk and ability to take hits in a fight. And now he was shooting away over the mountain-tops, unworried by the thin air up here and shooting through clouds like a knife stabbing into a chunk of candy floss, before he curved down and span about in a tight corkscrew to get any last remnants of the ice out as quickly as he could.

After that, he debated what course of action he should take next. Perhaps the other Digimon were also somewhere in the mountains, but equally they could be out across the vast land that he could see stretching away to the far east – a huge expanse of woodland and plains and in the distance, one single, solitary peak sticking out of the ground. Could they be over that way? Or could they possibly be on the _other_ side of the mountains which he could not make out over the towering peaks themselves. Where were they most likely to be?

The honest answer – he didn't have any idea.

* * *

But something else was about to happen that would take his mind off all that once again.

For unknown to MailBirdramon, as he had been sunning himself on that ledge, he had been spotted from quite some distance away but another being, who had been out flying after the recent surprise visit. That person had been, naturally, another Great Eagle. His name was Meneldor the Swift, and he was aptly named, for he was one of the fastest Eagles of the Mountains, or possible indeed the world. His build allowed him to be perfectly streamlined and there were few other Eagles who could keep up with him on the wing.

That said, Meneldor was also a rather hasty eagle in other aspects as well as physical speed. He spotted MailBirdramon well over two miles away, which was beyond MailBirdramon's own vision – although the Digimon had great vision it was still not nearly up to the standard of an Eagle. Meneldor hadn't had a clue what to make of this strange, blue creature, and had flown closer, covering the gap between them another mile before he alighted on a ledge of his own and peered across the great distance as if he was a human analysing a specimen on the table in front of him.

MailBirdramon was a complete mystery to him. Never before had Meneldor seen a bird-like being that was totally covered in hard metal. There was not an inch of feathers or even skin in sight anywhere. Could it be a creature just covered in hard armour? Or was that metal actually a part of its body. Meneldor could not tell. It had three prongs on the end of its tail as if it was a weapon and its eyes were small and had no pupils at all. And yet it was still roughly about the size and shape as the Eagles themselves.

Meneldor has been even more alarmed when he has seen MailBirdramon activating his thrusters. As far as he could see that was just small fires bursting out the back of its wing-like projections, if they could even be called wings.

He had stood there examining oblivious MailBirdramon for only a short amount of time before Meneldor's brain began to concoct a theory that made sense. In ancient times past, when Sauron had been a mere lieutenant, the Dark Lord that ruled that lands had been Morgoth. Meneldor knew all about Morgoth. Every Eagle did. They told the story with pride about how the greatest of all their ancestors, a mighty Eagle named Thorondor, had personally clawed Morgoth's face with his huge talons and sent him staggering back while he helped some of Morgoth's enemies escape from him.

But Meneldor also knew of the evils that Morgoth had committed and the evil creatures he had created – in this case orcs and trolls. The ancestors of orcs and trolls had once been Elves and Ents respectively that had fallen into Morgoth's clutches and had been brutally tortured, tormented, mutilated and twisted by Black Magic until they had become a completely different and totally evil race. There was no such thing as a good orc or a good troll. Each one of them was stained with the evil that their ancestors had once been infused with to make them such nightmarish creatures.

And Meneldor then thought that this new creature, this strange, mechanical bird, could only be one thing. Morgoth had never captured and done the same thing with one of the Great Eagles themselves, but it seemed clear to Meneldor that now, somebody had. It was the only explanation that made sense. Somehow, somebody had managed to capture an Eagle and use more Dark Magic to twist it and turn it into another, evil creature.

And once the theory had taken route, Meneldor instantly believed that it was the truth. How could it be anything else? The creature could only be some kind of Dark Eagle.

With that in mind, Meneldor had made his way back to the main Eagle roost while MailBirdramon was still thawing. There were many roosts dotted throughout the Misty Mountains, each containing a large number of Eagles all living in one place and all of them very interested to hear what Meneldor had to say about what he had seen.

* * *

Now, as MailBirdramon swung low over the mountains, he was still oblivious to the eyes watching him, though this time there was not one but four sets of fierce yellow eyes glaring down at him from above, though admittedly glaring was one of the few expressions Eagle eyes seemed to be able to do. At least by human terms.

"You see what I meant?" Meneldor asked his three companions. "What else can that be? I've never heard of anything like that in any of the old stories and we know that the Eagles have studied the world from above since our awakening and passed down all knowledge of what we have seen. Surely a creature like that would have been mentioned somewhere if it had ever been seen before."

"We do not know for sure what that creature is," said the slightly large Eagle that flew along beside him, and that went by the name of Landroval. "We cannot determine for certain that that is a Dark Eagle, but it is true that I have neither encountered nor heard of its like before."

"What do we do then?" Meneldor asked. "Lord Gwaihir is not here, therefore the decision falls to you, Landroval."

"This creature may not be our enemy," Landroval said after a moment's silence. "However we must take precautions until we can determine its allegiances and right now it is getting close to our eyries. We must ensure that our homes and our young are protected so for now, we shall attempt to drive it away. But be wary."

Meneldor and the other two Eagles nodded before Landroval led the way and spilled the air from beneath his wings, upending himself and steeping into a dive towards the distant stranger. Despite his huge size, he was capable of moving at impressive speed, especially when he tucked his wings into his body to become almost arrow-like in appearance.

But Meneldor was even faster and overtook Landroval shortly afterwards, rotating around and flexing his talons as he aimed for the unsuspecting MailBirdramon's wingtip.

Just as MailBirdramon had made the decision to head out across the plains first where he would have a better view and therefore a better chance of actually spotting anyone that might be out there, Meneldor slammed into the edge of his wing with full force and sending the startled Digimon spinning through the air with a loud cry of surprise. As Meneldor spread his wings out to catch himself MailBirdramon frantically tried to do the same, flaring his thrusters to force him back out of the spin moments before he crashed into another mountainside, tilting up sharply and whooshing up the face of the rock tower, shaking stones loose with his slipstream alone.

Once he had recovered himself enough he turned himself around and glared at Meneldor as the Eagle winged his way around with powerful flaps of his wings and came back towards him again. MailBirdramon was not best known for his amazing tact, and the only real thing the sprang to mind out of all of this was that he was being attacked. And he did not like to be attacked.

He opened his beak, charging the cannon inside it and taking aim at the incoming Meneldor but before he could shoot a blow another heavy something crashed into him, this time in his back, heavy talons locking around the red spike jutting out behind him and forcing him downwards. Unprepared for the strike, MailBirdramon went down heavily, flung away by whatever had hit him until he crashed heavily into the mountain and slid down it some distance, causing a rockslide around him as he did so.

Once he had regained his wits, MailBirdramon pushed out with his talons and launched himself away, and out from under the rocks cascading around him and back out into the open sky. Moments later he saw two more huge bird, both slightly bigger than even he was, swooping down towards him, wings flaring out and talons lashing forwards to hit him again. The Digimon responded instantly, flipping himself upside down and spiralling out of the way, the two birds rushing past him instead of hitting him.

He quickly cast about for other adversaries and quickly determined that there were four of them and one of them, Meneldor, was already closing in on him again, aiming another blow for his wing. MailBirdramon's eyes narrowed and he suddenly put on a spurt of speed with his thrusters. Meneldor squawked at the surprising increase in pace and flared his wings upwards, barely avoiding a mid-air collision as MailBirdramon skewed underneath where he had been.

"If you want a fight," MailBirdramon said. "Then you have one." And he swung around again in a tight circle and barrel-rolled after the retreating Meneldor. He never thought about why the giant birds might be attacking him. He was a member of Blue Flare and throughout most of the war, when someone had challenged them, they had responded to said challenge with a challenge of their own. And as far as MailBirdramon was concerned he had been challenged.

"**PLASMA CANNON!"** he roared, opening his beak and offloading several large bolts of crackling yellow plasma at Meneldor's back. The Eagle, able to see it coming through a slight tilt of his head, was taken by surprise by the nature of the attack, but recovered quickly – it was not unheard of for some creatures of Middle Earth to discharge attacks from their mouths. He tilted his wings back into a dive and the attack missed, but if it had been an Eagle other than Meneldor, it would have been a much closer shave.

And now, as far as the other Eagles could see, the creature was acting with hostility. That was not excusable. It was now a battle. A clash between avians.

Landroval dove down alongside MailBirdramon and levelled off towards him, talons stretching out and seeking to hit MailBirdramon in the stomach from the side, but MailBirdramon saw it coming and spun around, lashing out his own metal talons and catching hold of Landroval's. Instantly the two of them went into freefall, rolling over and over one another as the plummeted towards the ground above half a mile below. Landroval felt MailBirdramon's sharp talons cutting into his feet slightly while his only scratched at the metal, but nevertheless he held firm, flaring his wings and fighting for some form of control.

MailBirdramon though, had other plans and piled more energy into his thrusters, instantly dragging the startled Landroval out of their spiral and through the air, upside down, before MailBirdramon released his grip and sent the eagle spinning towards the ground some distance below. MailBirdamon spun around to pursue but Meneldor had quickly moved in on him from above and latched his talons around the base of his metal neck, throwing him forwards and into another couple of rolls as he span around, trying to throw his sudden rider off.

One of the other two Eagles swept towards the falling Landroval, while the other moved in to help Meneldor. The first swooped in and seized Landroval's talons in his own, flaring his wings and wrenching the spinning Landroval to a stop, allowing him to finish arresting his fall before he hit the ground and regain control. The other seized MailBirdramon by his pronged tail and heaved, swinging the heavy metal bird around as Meneldor released his grip, and giving MailBirdramon his turn and spinning away.

"Alright," MailBirdramon muttered. "That tears it." He quickly recovered himself again and shot downwards towards the ground, pursued by the four Eagles who hoped to box him in against the ground and leave him nowhere to go. But MailBirdramon kept going down, arresting his fall only metres before he crashed into the ground and skimming along just above the bushes. The four Eagles flew above some distance, wondering how on Middle Earth the newcomer could every fly that low and still maintain itself in the air.

But then MailBirdramon span around and cut his thrusters, falling to the ground backwards and feet first, slamming into the turf and his metal talons ripping up a long stream of soil as he skidded backwards. Then his thrusters exploded into life again and he kicked off from the ground again, lancing up at a speed that shocked the Eagles and whooshing into a spin, his wings spinning like helicopter blades as he aimed himself right at the two nearest Eagles.

Quick reactions had long served the Eagles well though and they split off hurriedly, MailBirdramon whooshing past them and clipping off a few of their tail feathers as he passed. Then he came out of the spin and swung around. Now he had the altitude and he quickly singled out Meneldor and whooshed down towards him, raising his tail and swiping it down at him as he shot swiftly passed. Meneldor overturned himself and just narrowly avoided the slash of the three prongs, shocked that this creature could actually be faster than him.

He was even more shocked when MailBirdramon span himself around at an incredibly tight angle and came for him again, preparing his tail for another strike. Meneldor banked sharply sideways but still felt the three spikes rake across the top of his wing and pull out several feathers, causing him to stumble in the air but not doing any serious damage. Ignoring the pain, the Great Eagle powered himself downwards towards the rocks of the mountains they were fighting in with MailBirdramon spinning around and rapidly pursuing.

It was here that it became apparent that the Eagles did have one advantage over MailBirdramon – they knew the mountains. He did not. Meneldor steeped into a dive, pulling his wings in close and shooting downwards with MailBirdramon shooting after him, the swift Eagle moving at high speed but MailBirdramon gaining on him every passing moment. Meneldor then flared his wings outwards and turned as sharply as any Eagle could around a corner. MailBirdramon swung around after him, but only then did he realise his mistake.

For Meneldor had pulled in this wings again and shot through a narrow canyon between two mountain peaks.

And MailBirdramon could not fold his wings in the same manner, which was a bad thing for him because his wingspan was wider than the canyon. MailBirdramon pulled up with a mighty wrench but he still slammed the end of one wing into the side of the mountain and overturned himself, crashing onto his back and scraping against the rock face.

The Digimon gritted his beak and powered his thrusters, shooting back up into the air before he lost his momentum and drew to a stop where getting up off his back would be almost impossible for him. He scanned about quickly for any signs of his quarry and saw him emerge from the canyon on the other side and spread his wings, flapping hard to try and gain some more height after that daring stunt. MailBirdramon charged another Plasma Cannon inside his beak but a shadow fell across him and he looked up sharply to see the other three Eagles descending down towards him.

So he fired at them instead. The Eagles quickly split off, aware that he could do this now, though one blast still went through the ends of the tailfeathers on one of the others. Landroval swept around towards the mountain-face above and dived down towards him, talons held at the ready. MailBirdramon swung around and threw out another pair of Plasma Cannons, but before they reached their target, Landroval slammed his feet into a huge protruding boulder on the mountain and then flapped to get out of the way as the boulder crashed down and started a landslide that pelted down towards MailBirdramon.

These birds were good, MailBirdramon had to admit. A couple of the boulders crashed into his Plasma Cannons and cancelled them out in an explosion of rubble, but the others continued to cascade towards him. MailBirdramon arced over and shot away quickly before he could be caught out and damaged further, only to find himself in the path of the other two Eagles, who each seized one of his wings in their talons and pushed him downwards under their combined weights.

"You will not ground me," MailBirdramon snarled and suddenly his thrusters burst into their full power. The Eagles were taken by surprise as their fall was suddenly counteracted and MailBirdramon actually began to push the two of them upwards, reversing their direction completely while they flailed their wings to try and keep some semblance of control. But when MailBirdramon opened his mouth and charged the cannon within they quickly let go and tumbled downwards before he could strike.

MailBirdramon shot up and span around, glaring down at the four Eagles who were all now below him. They were obviously experienced aerial fighters, much more so than he had originally thought. They had managed to cause him some damage while some of them had taken comparatively little. This wouldn't do. So, it was time to literally pull out the big guns. Or rather the big cannon.

His yellow eyes narrowed as he gathered the energy within his chest cavity and he roared, **"NIGHTHAWK!"** The socket in the middle of his chest flashed and then a huge yellow laser-like blast exploded out of it and lanced downwards towards Meneldor.

_This_ attack definitely took the Eagles by surprise. They had never encountered anything like this before, and had no idea that such a thing was even possible. Meneldor almost didn't react in time, but at the last possible second he flung himself to the side with a powerful stroke of his wings, the cannon blast passing within mere centimetres of his feathery chest and lancing on past to strike the mountainside and blast a chunk out of it, sending rocks flying into the air with a colossal boom.

The remaining Eagles instantly split off, alarmed at the nature of the attack. Frustrated at the miss, MailBirdramon swooped across and launched another Nighthawk directly at another of the Eagles, which desperately veered off to the side and still had a few wing feathers burnt through. The remaining Eagles began climbing towards him from the sides, trying to stay out of range of the blasts, but MailBirdramon spun himself around and aimed another Nighthawk at Landroval and his companion, the two of them upending themselves and going into dives to avoid the blast.

What followed could only be described as a mad frenzy of aerial activity as MailBirdramon dived after his opponents and unleashed Plasma Cannons and Nighthawks at them from every angle, trying to hit the surprisingly slippery opponents, and getting a lot of near misses as the Eagles determinedly dodged his blasts with swift huge beats of their wings.

MailBirdramon spun around the peak of another mountain and came for them once more, spotting one of the Eagles landing on a ledge nearby to try and regain its balance and aiming a Nighthawk at it. The Eagle pushed itself upwards hurriedly and the Nighthawk took out the ledge it had been standing on and reduced it to powder in the following explosion and knocked the Eagle's aerial balance off at the same time.

MailBirdramon singled this one out as it struggled to regain control and shot towards it, beak opening as another Plasma Cannon charged within it. This one would be the first and then the others would follow soon after.

The Eagle looked up at him and screeched defiantly as MailBirdramon took aim…

…and was completely taken off guard when something heavy slammed into the back of his neck and threw his aim off, the Plasma Cannon firing wildly to the side and hitting another mountain-top. The Digimon looked over its shoulder to find itself face to face with another Eagle – not one of the four that had been attacking originally.

He wrenched himself in the air and through the newcomer off, swinging around to face him, but suddenly another Eagle plunging towards him from above forced him to roll to the side, right into the path of another Eagle that rammed him in the bank and tossed him downwards in another head-over-heel fall. As MailBirdramon looked up, flaring his boosters for control, he was startled to see at least twelve large Eagles in the sky above him now, all diving down towards him in an organised phalanx formation. The sounds of the battle, particularly the loud explosions caused by the Nighthawks, had reached the rest of the roost and now they had come in force to aid their brethren.

Now it was MailBirdramon that found himself on the run, veering off as another Eagle dived at him from above and spinning to the side to avoid yet another, only to meet with two more that were coming in from the side with talons outstretched. He launched a Plasma Cannon at them and they parted to avoid it but another Eagle had born down on him from above and slammed into his back, pushing him downwards. MailBirdramon forcibly flipped himself and the Eagle over to fling it away, only to have another two Eagles swoop in from below and hit him in the back again.

Chaos followed as the metal bird was swarmed by the feathered ones, which were unable to do any direct damage against him with their talons and beaks but were still dealing heavy blows against him with their enormous bodied. MailBirdramon swooped in several tight circles, dodging Eagles left right and slipping around in a figure of eight as they came from every direction.

There seemed to be no end to them, each one finding a position again after their misses and coming at him from a whole new angle after several other Eagles had had their shots. And they were aiming for his blind spots like his wings and back while the ones he was facing always seemed to be far away enough to dodge his Plasma Cannons that were launched in their direction.

MailBirdramon twisted past another falling Eagle and veered aside as another slashed at him with his talons, slashing back with his tail but missing as the Eagle was already out of range, only for another Eagle to slam into his wing and latch on with its claws. Before MailBirdramon could jerk himself free another seized him by his other wing and held on tightly. He turned his head to charge a Plasma Cannon but suddenly a third Eagle swooped in from the front and grabbed his neck in one foot and his beak in the other, clamping it shut, while a fourth came in from below and seized him by the tail, keeping it from flailing at anything.

The four Eagles bore MailBirdramon down, down, down towards the ground in a spinning, flailing ball of feathers and metal and MailBirdramon new full well that their intention was to slam him into the ground as hard as they could and considering the weight of them on top of him and the speed they were going at, that was going to hurt.

* * *

"And we're making the final approach now," said Beleram as he winged his way over the mountains. "And with good timing too. The Sun looks like it's going to set on another day. We made it just before dark."

"Well, that's a relief," Sparrowmon said, deciding not to mention that she probably could have flown here and back to Fornost at this point if she had been going at her usual travelling speed.

"My eyrie is just over the peak," Beleram said. "I suggest that when we reach it you hang back for a moment while I tell the others about you. If they saw a strange creature like you heading towards them at high speed they might assume that you meant harm to the eggs or the eaglets and try and attack you."

"Do you get many threats to them?" Sparrowmon asked.

"No, but threats are known," Beleram replied. "Most of the fauna that live in the mountains know that targeting those is a bad idea but sometimes we do get the occasional bold predator."

Sparrowmon nodded and the two of them closed the distance in silence. When they reached the peak, Sparrowmon drew to a stop and pulled behind it, listening as Beleram swooped around it and peering out and around it as much as she dared. She couldn't see much, but she saw Beleram swoop around and alight on a nearby ledge and address somebody that she could not see.

"Armenel," he said. "I have returned."

"So I see," said another voice. "And you appear to be a little injured, Beleram. Did you encounter any trouble on your scouting mission?"

"I encountered a host of it," Beleram responded. "But still, that can wait for a moment. Where is everybody? Why are you the only one still here guarding the eggs?"

"The others are close," Armenel said. "Apparently Meneldor spotted a strange creature this morning that was getting close to the vicinity of the roost. He said it looked like an Eagle, except it was covered with blue armour and had a much longer neck. He said he thought it was some kind of Dark Eagle. He and some others went out to drive it away but it's putting up a fight. You could hear the sounds of battle from here."

Sparrowmon's eyes had widened instantly as she overheard what the other Eagle had to say. Forgetting Beleram's previous instructions she surged out of hiding and cried, "What did you say? A large bird covered in blue armour?"

"What the…" Armenel screeched.

"Sparrowmon…" Beleram started.

"Where is it?" Sparrowmon said urgently. "What's happening?"

* * *

What was happening was MailBirdramon was still plummeting, burdened by the four Eagles that were weighing him down. The other Eagles dived down around and above them, following the path of the battle as they waited to see what would happen next.

MailBirdramon growled through his clenched beak and let loose a muffled roar of frustration as he flared his jets for all they were worth. Still the four Eagles were too heavy for him to move aside, but the one holding his tail screeched as the fires that jetted out of the thrusters burnt at him and he instinctively let go of MailBirdramon's tail. The tail instantly came up and gouged a mark across the Eagle's side, forcing it to veer away. And with one Eagle less, MailBirdramon could act.

With the most furious wrench yet, MailBirdramon twisted over, wrenching one wing down and the other wing up and hauling the Eagles that were latched onto them to the side with him, forcing one of them to let go to avoid a mid-air collision with the one holding MailBirdramon's neck. MailBirdramon surged forwards on his thrusters to shake the other one loose and wrenched his head back, yanking it out of the grasp of the other Eagle. He was free.

The Eagle in front of him raised its talons to try scratching at his eyes but MailBirdramon brought forward his own talons and locked them with his opponent's for the second time that day, pulling him upwards and into the air.

But this time MailBirdramon would not let go. This time he began to charge a Nighthawk as he and the Eagle grappled, aiming for a point-blank shot right at his opponent's chest.

"You messed with the wrong Digimon," he growled, as the chest-cannon burned a bright yellow. **"NIGHT…!"**

He was shocked beyond belief when several blue lasers lanced out of nowhere and hit him in the side, knocking him off kilter and allowing the Eagle to wrench itself free of his grasp and flap away. The other Eagles screeched in alarm. Some of them looked around for the source. Others tried to close in on MailBirdramon while he was off balance.

But something yellow and extremely fast suddenly shot through their ranks and did several rapid circuits of MailBirdramon sending the Eagles flapping backwards and out of the way, unsure how to process this new threat. But then it resolved itself into Sparrowmon, who hovered in front of MailBirdramon protectively and yelled, "Leave him alone! He's not your enemy!"

"Sparrowmon?" MailBirdramon gasped in disbelief. "Where did you…?"

Sparrowmon turned back and offered him a wry grin. "Boy, am I glad to see you," she said. "I was beginning to think that I was the only one who had been zapped into this strange place. But I'm not alone after all."

MailBirdramon offered her as best a grin as he could give with a metal beak. "It is good to see you too. I've been… wait a minute… you just shot me!"

"Well yeah," Sparrowmon giggled. "You were about to shoot one of the Eagles. I couldn't let you do that."

"But they were attacking me."

"Did it ever occur to you to find out why? Nope, I thought not."

"Huh?"

"What in the name of Eru is going on?" Landroval asked, unsure what to make of this turn events and sudden lull in action.

"Lord Landroval," called a voice, as Beleram soared over, passing through the ranks of Eagles that were circling the two Digimon and turning about to hover as best as a Giant Eagle could next to Sparrowmon. "Pardon this intrusion but I fear there has been a misunderstanding going on here."

"A misunderstanding?" Landroval repeated.

"This creature… this blue metal bird… it is not your enemy," Beleram said. "Nor is it a threat to the young. I can personally vouch for that. My companion, Sparrowmon, states that this bird is her friend and if she says so then I have good cause to believe her. For she saved my life earlier today."

That caught the attention of all the Eagles present.

"But… if it is not a threat then what is it?" Meneldor asked. "Are you saying it is _not_ some kind of Dark Eagle, Beleram?"

"Definitely not," said Beleram. "I really don't understand most of it myself but they are not here to fight us. They are not minions of darkness. They are, if all that I have heard is true, warriors for good. Like us."

"Wait a second, what is going on?" MailBirdramon said, confused. "These birds attacked me, while I was merely flying in search of the others."

"No," said Beleram, turning to face him. "They did not. At least not at first. We have never seen anything remotely like you before, Digimon. You must forgive my brethren. They assumed that you were some kind of dark creature – there are many of them abroad in the land during these times. And they thought that you might be a threat to them the eggs back at our roost so they were merely trying to drive you away so that you could not bring any harm. It was all one big misunderstanding."

"My guess is that you just assumed it was an assault and went on the offensive straight away, didn't you, ya big dummy," Sparrowmon rolled her eyes and grinned. "That strikes me as the sort of thing you would do."

"Well excuse my ignorance," MailBirdramon said. "Usually when someone slams into your back from above with their talons it means they are trying to kill you. Certainly it does where we come from. What was I supposed to think?"

"Well this is one big case of culture-clash, isn't it?" Sparrowmon grinned, but then she turned around and announced. "It's alright. We're friendly. We don't hurt children, we protect them. We know that you only have our word for it, but… well… don't I have an innocent looking face?"

"Oh dear Lord," MailBirdramon muttered.

"My Lord, she is telling the truth," Beleram said. "And… well… I know it for a fact. It's an embarrassing story to tell but… late yesterday evening I was investigating a group of goblins near the old ruins of Fornost and I got too low. I was brought down by siege machines and held captive through the night. But Sparrowmon here came upon me earlier today, attacked the goblins and freed me, then aided me in destroying the goblin horde and their machines. Those are not the actions of a Dark Creature. There can be no doubt. These two are fighters of the Light."

Landroval considered for a moment. "Well… we do still only have your word for this, Beleram. Frankly I still find the presence of not one, but two strange avian creatures such as ourselves with such bizarre abilities a little suspicious. However, I trust your judgement on this matter. Especially if you claim your… companion saved your life."

"Glad to hear it," Sparrowmon said as she moved over beside Beleram. "So does that mean no more trying to kill each other? Because if something like that happened then I think it would sour everyone's day."

"Yes," Landroval said. "We shall relent. If one of our own says you can be trusted then I'm sure you can be."

"Great," Sparrowmon grinned. "My name is Sparrowmon, and this big bundle of scrap metal that you've been attacking is called MailBirdramon."

"Scrap metal!" MailBirdramon said, affronted. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you taken a look at yourself? You have seen better days."

MailBirdramon looked down at his armour, which was slightly dented and had a few scratches in some places from the heavy blows of the Eagles. "True enough. But my wings are still functioning and that's what counts."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances," Landroval dipped his beak to them. "And you have our sincerest apologies for striking out at you such as we did. We only had the best interests of our children and eggs at heart."

"That is understandable," MailBirdramon nodded. "And I am sorry for retaliating such as I did. But where I come from when somebody strikes out at you, they are usually trying to kill you."

"That is true, actually," said Sparrowmon. "Maybe in future you can just land nearby and talk it out with the stranger."

"We did not know if he was an intelligent creature," Landroval said. "Few creatures are in Middle Earth. And if he were then we would not know if he could be reasoned with, for we also assumed he was a Dark creature and they would not barter deals with our kind. Nevertheless, you have heard our apologies and I graciously thank you for accepting them. Perhaps we could make things up to you by providing you with a place to rest after the battle. And then we can find out what exactly you are."

"Likewise," MailBirdramon said. "Thank you for the offer but…"

"We definitely accept," Sparrowmon interrupted before MailBirdramon could say anything else.

Landroval chuckled. "Then follow us. We shall take you back to the eyries." And with a flap of his wings he steered himself around and soared away, a phalanx of eagles falling into place behind him. Beleram nodded in their direction and followed on, indicating the two Digimon should do the same, and they did so, powering their thrusters and flying side by side, while Meneldor fell in beside Beleram.

"So, Beleram…" the other Eagle chuckled. "You were saved by a sparrow?"

"Shut up," Beleram said, good-naturedly but with a little edge, not wanting Sparrowmon to think that that was a slight against her.

* * *

"Oh, it's so good to see you again, MailBirdamon," Sparrowmon was saying again behind him. "It's so good to see _some_ kind of familiar face around here. Everything's been madness since I woke up and found myself in a field instead of at the castle. First I got poked in the face with a stick, then I got threatened by a bunch of tiny people who were terrified of me, then I had to fly around and try and talk to one of the humans and could only get one to listen to me by picking him up and putting him on a roof since they were all so scared of me too, and then I had to battle against a large group of goblin things. Utter chaos."

"It's good to see you too," MailBirdramon said when Sparrowmon finally paused for breath. "My day was slightly less eventful until I was attacked by these birds, except for the fact I got caught in a blizzard and had to wait it out for some time. Have you any idea where we are? Did you say there were humans in this world?"

"Yeah, but I don't think this is the same human world that Nene and the others live in," Sparrowmon murmured. "Nene never mentioned anything about goblins and stuff like that and I haven't seen anything like all the technology and giant cities that we saw when we fought DarknessBagramon. Either this is the same human world but we've been hurled into the past through time-travel somehow, or this is a completely different world."

"I feared as much," MailBirdramon agreed. "Kiriha once told me that I was far bigger than any bird that lived in the Human World, but some of these birds are larger than me. And I know now this isn't the Digital World. I fear your right. Have you seen any of the others?"

"No," Sparrowmon shook her head. "But there have been a lot of forests and stuff that I've flown over so I could have missed a few of them. Do you think that they're all in this world too."

"I hope so. All this started when the Code Crown started projecting light at us, and all of us had a beam of light hit us back then, which leads me to suspect all of us were thrown into another dimension. If that is case, then I hope it is this one. But unfortunately I have not been able to check around very far thanks to that blizzard."

"I really hope you're right," Sparrowmon said. "That we're trapped in another dimension is bad enough. If we were all flung into a lot of them…" she shuddered.

MailBirdramon paused for a moment. Then he said, "Your friend seems pleasant. How did you meet?"

"Beleram? Well, like he said, he got caught by those goblin guys and when I saw him he was chained down and being poked with spears. And I… well… you know…"

"Couldn't turn your back," MailBirdramon said with a wry chuckle. "I assumed as much."

"Yeah, I know," Sparrowmon snickered. "It's what we do. But Beleram's offered us his help. He says that he and the other Eagles would probably be willing to help us find the others. If what he says is true, their eyesight is even better than yours. And they can cover a lot of ground between them."

"So that's why you accepted the invitation to the nests."

"Pretty much, yeah. You know, never say know to extra help when you find it."

"True. Very well then. We'll do it this way."

"Oh don't sound like that. If the rest of these guys are like Beleram they're really nice guys. Don't get a irked at them over that misunderstanding. Keep it water under the bridge and all that."

MailBirdramon chuckled. "Says the person that initially refused Taiki's help when he offered to try and save Nene from that Lucemon."

Sparrowmon pouted. "I've learned since then."

MailBirdramon chuckled and fell silent. The silence stayed that way for a few moments before Sparrowmon said, "Seriously though, it's so good to see you again."

"You still shot me," MailBirdramon muttered dryly.

"Not on full power!"

* * *

Soon after that, they arrived at the Eagle's massive eyries. Never before had either of the Digimon seen such massive nests – huge structures that were close to fifteen by twenty feet wide, resting on huge ledges of rock and across flat mountain-tops at various heights but all within close range on one another. Armenel was still standing guard on the second highest peak, watching over the nests, some of which contained large eggs, others young, but still large, fluffy eaglets covered in white down. There were a couple of other slightly smaller eagles still around as well.

And on the very highest peak was the biggest eyrie of all, and the tallest. It could only be the eyrie of the Eagle who was in charge of the roost.

The Eagles all flapped to their respective nests, Landroval nodding to Armenel and assuring him that the newcomers were welcome. The eaglets seemed to be excited at the presence of the two strangers. MailBirdramon settled on a large pile of boulders, while Sparrowmon effortlessly continued to hover next to him, while Beleram alighted nearby and stood close to the two Digimon.

"Nice place you've got here," said Sparrowmon. "Definitely my kind of place. You can see a lot of things up here. On both sides of the mountain range. Very strategic."

"Indeed," Beleram laughed. "Though we don't usually get much that does manage to attack us up here. We mostly build up on places like this so we can be warned of any incoming dragons, but we haven't seen any dragons around here for some time."

"Well that might change soon," muttered MailBirdramon. "Since some of our own friends are dragons."

"Now," said Landroval as he alighted on his nest, which both Digimon noted was _not_ the big one on the highest peak, but was the second largest one close to it. "I think I speak for all of us when I say, if you are not dark creatures then what exactly are you?"

"Well," Sparrowmon shrugged. "This… is where it gets complicated. It _always_ does."

"I can vouch for that too," Beleram said.

And so, Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon did their best to explain the same things that Sparrowmon had earlier explained to Beleram, about all the things that a Digimon was and what they represented and what their world was like. Naturally this did not particularly increase the Eagle's understanding of them. A lot of the words they used sounded like complete gibberish to the giant birds and all they really learned was that they were called Digimon and that they were not from Middle Earth. Which explained why they had never seen anything like them before.

What the Eagles were more easily able to grasp was the concept of Xros Heart, except for the whole thing about merging bodies to create more powerful forms – that bit sounded like nonsense to them. But when they heard what Xros Heart stood for, and how they protected anyone and everyone that deserved it no matter how dangerous the situation or how desperate the help needed was, they began to look at the two with further interest.

"So you are members of the court of a King?" Landroval asked.

"Yeah, we are," Sparrowmon nodded. "We're all good friends with our King in our court. Shoutmon is the best King I've ever met, though I haven't really met that many, but still… he's just and fair and a bit of a laugh. And he never forgets his morals or ideals ever. He's kept our world a safe place for everyone."

"Despite that fact he's also so small that I could probably step him flat with one foot," MailBirdramon added. "Though he is very strong for his size. I know that from experience."

"You sound like a noble group," Landroval acknowledged. "And you say you think that rest of this court is now in Middle Earth scattered around? That is very unfortunate for you."

"No kidding," muttered Sparrowmon.

"Excuse me if I sound presumptuous, but I thought that we might offer them our help," Beleram said. "After all, I am indebted to Sparrowmon. If she had not come along then it is highly likely I would be goblin food by now, or at least in a lot of pain. The least I can do is repay her by helping her to find her friends. And I was hoping that some of you others would help me."

"Perhaps we will," Landroval nodded. "It seems fitting. We, in turn, have to make up for our poor reception to you, MailBirdramon. I believe that some of us should indeed help if we can."

"You don't need to do it because of that," MailBirdramon said. "I acted overly aggressively I suppose. I don't know if I can repay that…"

"No, it is nothing," Landroval said firmly. "It was my decision to bombard you such as we did. You were merely reacting. This is all on me."

"Well you had your reasons," MailBirdramon said, with a shrug in his voice since he couldn't pull a literal one.

"Thank you for your understanding," Landroval nodded. "And may I say you are quite the aerial battler. There are not many other creatures on Middle Earth who are capable of standing up to four Eagles as you did and still come out without a whole lot of damage. One of the few that I would say can do that are the dragons, and we have not encountered their kind for years."

"Thank you," MailBirdramon said. "You were quite impressive yourselves. You may not have the abilities that I have but you still had me on the ropes a couple of times there. And I have a feeling that I would have fallen to the might of your combined roost strength if the fight had not been interrupted."

"Wow, you must have made an impression," Sparrowmon snickered. "MailBirdramon doesn't go around admitting that he would have lose very often, you know."

"Then we thank him for the compliment all the more," Landroval nodded. "Yes, Beleram, it seems that you have made some good friends."

"Indeed," Beleram nodded.

"I shall help you to find your friends," Landroval continued. "Is there anyone else amongst us who will join me in this?"

"I shall go," Meneldor nodded. "I am the one who started the battle by telling everyone you were a Dark Eagle."

"And so will I," said another Eagle. "I also wish to see what other strange creatures we may be able to find on our scouting patrols."

"Thank you, Baranthor," nodded Landroval. "Anyone else?"

Several of the other Eagles piped up their offers, including some of the eaglets that couldn't have hoped to join in the search. The only ones who really didn't were the mothers who had a responsibility to hunt and protect and catch prey for their young or to continued sitting on the eggs that had not yet hatched.

"Then it is settled," Landroval nodded. "We shall offer our aid to the Digimon."

"When do we start?" Sparrowmon said eagerly.

"Tomorrow morning, at first light," Landroval said, turning to face the Sun which had just hit the horizon and was beginning its final descent. "Good as our eyesight may be by day, by night it is much more limited. Finding anything now may be next to impossible. And we must rest up after our little bout anyway."

"Indeed," nodded another Eagle nearby, looking down at the mark on its side that had been made by MailBirdramon's tail. "Not all of us got out of that without some slight injury."

MailBirdramon coughed. "Yes, sorry about that."

"Not exactly the best first meeting in the world, was it?" Sparrowmon said dryly. "I hope that our comrades are having better luck with some of the other locals of this world."

"Well," Beleram turned to look at them. "Rather like with your friend it would rather depend on what they look like that would determine the…"

"Lord Gwaihir approaches!" Armenel's voice suddenly rang out over the roost site. "Out of the southeast he is returning to us."

"Lord Gwaihir?" MailBirdramon asked, as all the other Eagles turned to face the Southeast and try and get a view.

"Isn't he the leader of all you Eagles?" Sparrowmon questioned Beleram. "The one that sent you on your mission in the first place?"

"Yes, that is him," Beleram nodded. "Also known as the King of all Birds. Lord Gwaihir is the greatest Eagle of our time and he is returning now."

"Why was he not here before?" MailBirdramon asked.

"Ssh. We'll probably find out in a minute," Sparrowmon said, rising above Beleram to try and get a look herself. Though her eyesight was significantly better than a human's it still was not up to the standard of one of the Eagle's so it took her a while to spot the silhouette against the darkening sky. When she did, she watched with a little excitement as the silhouette grew larger, and larger, and larger, until she could tell that this particular Eagle was definitely the biggest of all of the members of the roost site.

The enormous Eagle soared majestically across the sky, glossy feathers rippling across his body and the setting sun painting them a golden orange colour. He flew high, just beneath the cloud layer, eyes turning to lock onto the roost site that he had left behind a few days ago. As usual the other members were there to greet him, all having spotted him some time ago, but this time the presence of the two new strangers caught Gwaihir's eye.

It took him a couple of moments of staring at the strange pair of newcomers, before he chuckled. "Well," he muttered to himself. "This certainly is interesting."

He tilted his magnificent wings and stooped downwards towards the roost, before flaring to a surprisingly graceful stop considering his massive size and alighting on the huge eyrie right on the highest peak. The Eaglets started chirping excitedly at the presence of their King, and the Windlord first turned to look upon Landroval.

"Brother," Landroval bowed his head to Gwaihir.

"Brother," repeated Gwaihir with his relatively deep voice, reclining his own head in turn. "I trust that everything went well in my absence. I have flown many leagues over the last few days in aid of Gandalf and I have seen the musterings of war in the lands below beginning to the South, yet I presume things have been better here."

"For the most part, yes," Landroval nodded to his nestmate. "Though, we did encounter something that took us all by surprise earlier today."

"So I see," Gwaihir chuckled, turning to fix his piercing eyes on the Digimon. Sparrowmon actually found herself fidgeting slightly, as the intense golden gaze focused on her for a moment, before Gwaihir turned to Beleram. "I see you too have returned, Beleram, though you appear to be injured."

"Did he just skip over us?" Sparrowmon muttered quietly, though Gwaihir heard her and had to suppress a chuckle.

"Yes, my Lord," Beleram nodded. "I have seen many things in the north as you have sire, including the mustering of goblin, sire."

"So I feared," Gwaihir nodded. "It seems that Gandalf was right. The war will be coming to the lower lands on all fronts, from the north and from the south. There will be near no direction uncovered, and things are progressing more rapidly than ever."

"Um…" Sparrowmon muttered, wondering why the Eagle Lord seemed to be unconcerned by their presence.

Gwaihir chuckled for real this time. "And now I turn to you, strange newcomers. I must admit, I was not expecting to find anything like you here when I returned to my eyrie."

"My Lord, allow me to explain," Beleram began.

"No," Gwaihir raised a talon. "That is unnecessary. I believe I can gather all the information I need myself. In fact, I would go as far as to say I know more about this than most of you. Are you two, by any chance, Digimon?"

The Eagles looked startled that their Lord knew this already but the two Digimon in question were completely taken aback. "D… Digimon?" Sparrowmon blinked. "Yes… yes we are. How… do you know about us?"

Gwaihir gave as much of a smile as a beak could offer. "Gandalf was forewarned of your arrival before you even got here into our world, due to the will of Eru Ilúvatar himself." The Eagles around him looked awed by this straight away – obviously that was no small thing. "He told me that a great many of you would be landing in this world, to aid the world in the fight against Sauron?"

"Who?" MailBirdramon asked.

"That Dark Lord guy that Beleram mentioned?" Sparrowmon asked. "You're saying someone brought us here to help you fight some sort of evil being?"

"Indeed," Gwaihir nodded. "And I can tell you that your friend and King, Shoutmon, has already agreed with the new White Wizard, Gandalf, to do just that and do what he can to win the war. In fact, he told me so in person."

"Shoutmon?" MailBirdramon asked sharply. "You have seen him and spoke to him?"

"Certainly. He is in the company of one of the most powerful wielders of magic to walk Middle Earth many leagues south of here and will be shortly making preparations to join the war effort down below. I assume, as you are subjects and friends of his, that you will be doing much the same in the future?"

Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon glanced at each other and the former sighed. "Well," she said. "While I would have appreciated it if we had been asked before getting thrown into a warzone like this, we can't really say no. Even is Shoutmon wasn't here. After all, we don't turn our backs."

"Agreed," MailBirdramon nodded. "If there is strife in the land, we help to end it."

"Still, it's such a relief to hear that Shoutmon is okay," Sparrowmon said with a grin. "And that he's in good hands too. That's great. Were there any others there with this wizard guy or was it just him?"

"Just him," Gwaihir said. "However, I believe I may have spotted some other members of your team. Gandalf asked me to go out and search for some former companions of his and when I found them I saw they were in the company of two more beings I had never seen the like of before. A tall female that resembled some kind of Elf warrior with a large sword and an arm that appeared to be some variety of snake…"

"Mervamon!" Sparrowmon beamed. "Oh wonderful! She's okay too."

"And the other one?" MailBirdramon asked.

"A small pink creature that resembled some kind of rabbit."

"Sounds like Cutemon," said MailBirdramon, with a chuckle. "At least the little mite didn't land himself in trouble like he usually does. He'll definitely be safe enough with Mervamon around."

"Yeah, isn't it great? Including us that's five of our company accounted for. A much better day than I was originally expecting. Can you take us to them tomorrow?"

Gwaihir shook his head. "No. Trust me when I say they are in good hands. However, there is a strong likelihood that other members of your party are not in such good straits right now. I take it that we have already offered our help in searching for their other friends, Landroval?"

"Indeed," Landroval nodded. "We had just finalised it when we spotted your approach."

"In that case," Gwaihir said appreciatively. "Tomorrow, we will begin our search for any of your other companions that we may find. Your three friends were all heading north the last I knew and it is likely that they will be meeting up at some stage in the future. If there are any others around this area that we can find then we can guide them in the right direction to do the same. But we may need your help to identify some of them so perhaps that would be the better option, do you not think?"

Sparrowmon was a little disappointed but she saw the logic in his reasoning. "I suppose so," she said.

"I have no objection," MailBirdramon agreed.

"Excellent," Gwaihir nodded. "Now, it has been a long flight and we have an early start tomorrow. Let us take our rest for the night."

* * *

And so, the Sun dipped down the sky, bringing the first full day that Middle Earth contained Digimon, February 27th, to a close. And already things were drastically beginning to roll into motion, which would soon lead to a snowball effect – a chain of events that the inhabitants of Middle Earth were sure to never forget.

Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon were reunited and took up residence with the Giant Eagles of the North, ready to begin searching for other members of their team come first light.

Mervamon and Cutemon were still running north, the former not having taken a break since dawn and still going strong, impressed with the stamina of her new companions as they too continued to run, Gimli occasionally flagging but still keeping up, while the latter continued to apply healing to Boromir whenever he thought it necessary.

King Shoutmon had accompanied Gandalf north into Fangorn Forest, reuniting with fellow Digimon Deckerdramon and now waiting impatiently for the events which Gandalf said would occur to take place.

Ballistamon continued wandering aimlessly lost through Emyn Muil while the three red Monitamon that had been accompanying journeyed on in the company of Frodo and Sam, led by the bizarre Gollum in an easterly direction.

Dorulumon, at the insistence of the villagers he had rescued, began to head west with them before he and the others would split off down to Edoras, shepherding them in the direction of the fortress of Helm's Deep in case there were any other raiding parties around that may have ambushed them.

The Bombmon huddled together in a crevice in Saruman's pits for a second night, still relieved that their little forms had gone unnoticed by the orcs around them.

Beelzemon and Wisemon settled down to rest in the forest of Lothlórien, the former still pondering the words of the Lady of Light, Galadriel and trying to fathom the images he had seen in the mirror, while the other complained that none of the Elves had allowed him to extract one of their teeth for analysis.

ChibiKamemon, Lunamon and Dondokomon spent the entire day trying to get what rest they could but refusing to move from the spot in the marshes they had found themselves in, taking it in turns to keep watch over the still yet disturbing bodies that littered the water around them.

Spadamon, in a similar circumstances, wandered in circles in the heavy fogs, trying to ignore the whispering and hissing sounds that occasionally went on in the downs around him and knowing he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

Golemon plodded south in absolute silence and with seemingly no purpose or destination in mind whatsoever, while some distance away the Gaossmon continued to argue with one another over exactly which way they were meant to go.

Knightmon, the PawnChessmon, Starmon and the Pickmon wandered upriver at an excruciatingly slow pace for the tall, armoured Digimon for the Pickmon had such stubby legs that walking briskly for them was next to impossible, and he and the PawnChessmon had to resort to carrying many of them in arms and on shoulders and heads just to start moving quicker.

Dracomon fought his way through the freezing snow with the help of Cyberdramon most of the day until the latter used his spear to dig him an ice cave for the night.

Jijimon was one of the worst off, having spent the entire day adrift at sea, his wooden staff the only thing keeping him from sinking and struggling to stay awake for fear of letting go and drowning in the night.

Others that were not well off included Bastemon, who barely budged from her place on the riverbank, flinching every so often as the arrow in her shoulder pained at her, while Greymon continued to crash through the undergrowth several miles away in search of her and their former companion, Revolmon remained the captive of Rangers of Ithilien.

But who was the worst off?

That would have to be Lillymon, cocooned from feet to mouth in the thick spider silk and surrounded by the horrible hairy arachnids, tears falling from her eyes every now and then and almost wishing they had blindfolded her so she didn't have to look at them, while the three green Monitamon hid nearby, with no idea what to do next.

The chain of events brought on by their appearance was only just beginning to unfold. And when the Sun rose again as it would surely do, that chain was set to unfold even further.

* * *

And that brings this chapter to a close. Not much to say here except the aerial battle was difficult and yet fun to write at the same time. I hope that you enjoyed it even if it was another battle between two sets of good guys. Trust me, the combined fights against the bad guys will be coming soon enough.

TTFN.

* * *

Next time…

When last we saw her, despite her valiant efforts, Lillymon found herself caught by the Giant Spiders of Mirkwood. Now, cocooned in their webbing, all she can do is await her fate and she knows that unless she can get loose soon, it will be a far from pleasant one.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 22 : Fairy Ensnared**


	22. Fairy Ensnared

Heya everybody. Sorry again for the delay to this chapter but the second term of uni started this week and it decided to rear its head and slam a very large amount of workload on me which I had to get done and I was a bit swamped with that for a bit, but now that that's over it should peter off and become much more steady, so I can continue working on this story. And now I won't bore you any further and I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 22:- Fairy Ensnared**

* * *

February 28th finally dawned after a long and restless night, especially for the majority of the Digimon that had landed in this strange new world. Most of them had hardly dared sleep, still unsure where they were or what might be lurking out there waiting to stumble across them or pounce when they let their guard down.

For some of them, like Spadamon or ChibiKamemon and his two companions, the darkness had seemed to close in around them, making them feel isolated and more alone than ever as their mind conjured feelings of being watched, though perhaps they were in fact, not imaginary at all.

Dorulumon stood guard over the villagers that he had saved the day before as they made some kind of makeshift camp – most of them not daring to sleep either or just couldn't considering they had nothing to sleep on but bare ground.

Ballistamon continued wandering around aimlessly, not really needing a great deal of sleep and probably getting more lost than before in the night if that was possible.

Mervamon didn't sleep at all, continuing to run and run almost non-stop through the night with her new companions, who were just as impressed with her stamina as she was with their's, though Cutemon managed to catch some sleep in the crook of her arm like a newborn child.

Greymon continued searching through the night for Bastemon, who had managed to drag her limp, cold and wet body up the bank where it had washed up and curled up miserably in a bush.

Several of the others made camp or found shelter. Shoutmon, Beelzemon, Wisemon, Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon, who had all found themselves among friends, actually managed to get decent sleeps. The Bombmons, still in the pits of Isengard, got a brief rest for a couple of hours but the noises around them kept waking them up as the orcs continued their labour unabated – in fact it increased in quantity as the Sun went down.

Suffice to say, when dawn finally broke, for most of them it was quite the relief.

* * *

But for one member in particular, it made absolutely no difference.

There was almost nothing but darkness around her, regardless of what time of day or night it was. No matter which part of this giant forest she was in, it was always dark. Always foreboding. Always terrifying, even as the Sun began to rise even higher through the air the amount of light that pierced in was minimal and the gloom only lifted very slightly.

Lillymon longed for proper daylight – to feel the Sun on her petals, to get out of this darkness and to be able to fly freely through the sky. But more than anything, she longed for some kind of salvation or sign that things would soon be better. The Sun had always been one of those signs – a reminder that every day was a new day.

But here, it barely made a difference.

She whimpered into the silk clogging her mouth and wrapped around her lower face, her eyes threatening to water again as she prayed for something, _anything_, to help her. But there seemed to be nothing forthcoming. Yesterday, she had gone through the single most terrifying experience of her life in her mad bid to escape from the Giant Spiders that had suddenly swarmed her, while also having an injured wing.

But she had failed, and the Spiders had managed to capture her.

And now, over eighteen hours later, she was still stringently cocooned in their horrible sticky silk, exactly as she had been when they had first trapped her and wrapped her up, except now she was also dangling by her bare feet, upside-down from the branch of a tree, swinging slightly whenever she moved. Her legs were tightly trapped together across their entire length, her arms folded behind her back and over her wings, each wrist trapped against the opposite elbow and her arms bound forearm to forearm, and finally a disgusting ball of surprisingly tough silk had been lodged in her mouth and trapped in there with another wrapping layer.

She'd been like this for almost an entire day now and she was hating it. She felt so trapped – she had no control over anything anymore and she was only really able to wriggle her body around, but was unable to do anything else. Her hands were trapped in fists, meaning the she couldn't even flex her fingers, and her wings were solidly pinned against her back, unable to even twitch. She was terrified beyond all imagining.

But considering who her captors were, she could not really be blamed for this.

As she saw what available sunlight there was filtering through the thick canopy she once again redoubled her efforts to try and escape this cocoon. She like a Chrysalimon trapped inside its own shell. She wriggled and squirmed and bucked her body, wrenching and twisting herself around as much as she could, but the only thing that she managed to accomplish was turning herself into some kind of squirming pendulum. The silk held strong and did not budge an inch. She could find no slack anywhere. She was a complete parcel.

"Hhmmmm mmmmm!" she whimpered into the gag. "Smmmbddd prmmm hhmmm mmmmm!" she sobbed quietly. "Shnntmmmm. Mnnnymmnnn! Prmmmmm!"

A clicking noise above her made her freeze instantly, and she looked up to see one of the biggest of the Spiders standing on the branch directly above her, attaching another piece of silk to the branch via the spinnerets in its back end, before dropping off the branch until it was hanging right in front of her.

Lillymon froze as she stared at it, wide-eyed with terror as the Spider reached out all eight legs and grasped her body with the clawed tips of its feet, bringing her swinging and squirming to a stop and holding her in place through a combination of its own strength and Lillymon freezing up at its touch, feeling as if she was in some kind of horrible Spider embrace. A strangled whimper escaped from her mouth – one of the few sounds that she was still able to make under the circumstances.

"I have told you before, my pretty little fly," the Spider hissed, in a voice that made it impossible for Lillymon to tell if it was male or female. "To keep quiet and do not bother trying to escape. You are becoming increasingly annoying with your whining moans and feeble struggles. Do I make myself clear?"

Lillymon flinched backwards as the clawed palps and large fangs of the Spider were moved forwards, the sharp points hovering threateningly before her face. Lillymon's gaze locked onto the eight, dark, emotionless eyes of the Spider and she knew that it wasn't joking. She fought the urge to vomit - thankful that she hadn't eaten anything for a while otherwise she wouldn't have been able to help herself, which would have been bad considering her mouth was already packed.

"I said, are we clear?" the Spider susurrated.

Lillymon flinched and nodded her head, trying not to cry again.

"Good," the Spider replied tersely, turning around as it released her and clambering back up its thread with ease, its stinger on its back end flexing prominently as a final warning as it did so. As it reached the branch it paused and then reached down with one leg to pluck the silk that was attaching Renamon's feet to the branch with a violent twang, sending Lillymon spinning around and swinging, unable to stop herself.

"Although," the Spider chuckled. "It is amusing to see you wriggle when you have no choice in the matter. Perhaps I should pinch all of your toes and see how hard I have to do it to get you to scream."

"Nmmm pmmm!" Lillymon snivelled through the gag. "Lllllt mmm gmmmm!"

The Spider chuckled again. "I've heard enough of our victims make that sound to know what it means even when you have a mouth full of our silk. We won't be letting you go anytime soon, pretty one. Your future will be decided upon by the Queen herself."

"Quit talking to it," another Spider, even larger than the first, scuttled up the side of a tree-trunk nearby. "She isn't ever going to be freed. The Queen's not going to let this one go for any reason. More than likely she'll be devoured as soon as she's softened up enough.

"DMMMM!" Lillymon squealed, knowing that would have been most likely what the Spiders intended to do anyway, but panicking when she heard it out loud.

"Well then it's a good thing that we decided to hang her up for the night, isn't it?" the first Spider chuckled. "The Queen likes leaving her victims up for a few days so that they can taste nicer, but with this one she might be able to scoff her up straight away."

"Aww look at it struggle," the second Spider snickered, reaching out with a leg and hooking the silk around Lillymon's torso, spinning her around a few times and then letting go, cackling as the silk unwound and Lillymon was sent spinning like a top for about fifteen rotations before she slowed and began to the spin the other way instead. "Isn't it adorable?"

"Sickeningly sweet," the first Spider cackled back. "Just the way I like them to taste."

"Nmmm. Prmm dnnn eeem mmm!" Lillymon shook her head wildly, staring into the unforgiving eyes of the Spiders. And they were not the only ones around. There were at least twenty of them around her, and several of them were always watching her in case by some miracle she actually managed to get loose. There was clicking sounds from the lot of them, which seemed to be their way of laughing at her struggles.

"I bet she'd be very juicy indeed," the Spider above her agreed. "It's a shame that we're not going to get the pleasure of eating her ourselves. This is a morsel for the Queen as soon as we determine exactly what she's supposed to be."

"I'm getting pretty hungry myself," the other Spider said. "Though you're right that we have to show her to the Queen. Shame really. She's looks so succulent. But as the Queen ordered, anything new or unfamiliar is to be taken to her so that she can inform her darker allies."

"Do you think there are any more like her around here?" one of the Spiders asked. "Some of the others were saying that there were three smaller creatures with her when we first started trying to catch her."

"Who knows?" another Spider hissed as it stepped menacingly closer. "But perhaps we can find out. Let's ask this one a few questions ourselves instead of just waiting for the Queen to do it. Perhaps if we unstuffed its mouth it might start feeling quite talkative."

"Well, why not?" Another one of the Spiders agreed. "What have we got to lose, huh?" It moved across to another nearby tree trunk and reached out with its long legs, homing in on Lillymon's face. Lillymon froze in fear as the horrible appendages approached her, waving in front of her eyes hypnotically before the claw at the end caught in the silk wrapped around her mouth and pulled a portion of it aside, exposing the silk trapped behind her teeth, which was then speared by a claw and pulled out, discarded like a piece of litter on the forest floor. Lillymon hacked and coughed as she swung around, trying to clear her mouth of the aftertaste and working her jaw after it had been wedged open for almost a full day. Much of her face was still plastered with silk but she could now open her mouth and could use it to speak.

"Please…" she coughed. "Let me go. I'm no threat to you, I promise. Or to your Queen. I just want to get out of here."

"Let you go?" one of the Spiders snickered. "Well, perhaps we will if you feel up to a little chat. Tell us… what exactly are you? You killed several of our brood during your mad bid for freedom and we want answers."

"I…" Lillymon swallowed. Despite her pounding heart and the ever-mounting fear inside her there was still a spark of resistance inside her. She was terrified out of her mind, wondering what her fate would be and conjuring up various images of what the Spiders might do to her, all enough to give her nightmares for weeks on end.

But despite everything, members of Xros Heart never surrendered to the enemy and never gave up hope despite all the odds thrown at them. It had seemed many times over the course of the war against the Bagra Army that the bad guys would win, but they had always pulled through and triumphed somehow, despite the losses that occurred on the way.

Shoutmon, her secret love, was the most prime example of that. Even when he had stood alone against DarknessBagramon, unable to DigiXros or Digivolve, he had never backed down and never given up no matter what the cost.

Right now these Spiders wanted to know what she was and more about her kind, as well as where she had come from and probably any information she could give about the other Digimon of Xros Heart if they assumed that there were more of them in this world.

No matter how scared Lillymon got, she couldn't do that. She couldn't tell them anything about her friends. If she did, she could put them all at risk. She could send an enemy out looking for them, or have them be prepared for the others if they ever stumbled across them. There was no way that Lillymon's consciousness could ever rest if she went and betrayed them like that.

Even if it meant she would be eaten, she would do the right thing. She would hold her ground. If she didn't, then she couldn't call herself a Xros Heart member. No way she was going to tell some Dark force of Spiders anything that they wanted to know.

"I will tell you nothing," she said, with some certainty, trying for a defiant look that she just managed to pull off on her cute little pixie face.

"Oh but you would make it so much easier on yourself if you did," the Spider next to her chuckled. "Come now. Perhaps if you tell us what we want to know, we will let you go."

"You would never do that," Lillymon bit her lip. "You are evil creatures. You have orders to take me to your Queen and even if you didn't you would just eat me. I will tell you nothing."

"She's braver than she looks," another Spider commended her. "Quite foolish of her really though."

"Where do you come from?" another Spider pressed. "Who were your friends and where are they now? What were they?"

"You can't make me tell you anything," Lillymon gritted her teeth defiantly. "I will never help evil, even if it's just giving them information. You are ugly, disgusting creatures and there's no cure for that."

"Got more spirit than you did when you were whimpering and squirming during the night, haven't you?" the Spider above her asked, the stinger on its tail flexing near its rear. Lillymon flinched but shook her head, refusing to say more.

"Well then," the Spider says. "Looks like this was a wasted endeavour." And it seized the silken string holding her upside-down to the branch and yanked it upwards, hauling Lillymon up and onto the branch right next to it. Lillymon screamed as it clambered over her and turned her around onto her back, but it deftly turned around on the branch and hooking her lower teeth with one of its back legs, wrenching her mouth open and squirting another line of silk into it. Lillymon forced herself not to retch as the Spider created a fresh ball of silk and wrapped more silk around her face to recreate the gag.

"You may regret not simply telling us what we want to know," the Spider nearest her head told her. "After all, we're taking you to see the Queen. And when she wants to know something, Queen Saenathra will find out what it is. It's quite fascinating really – how much she can make a person scream. We know. We've heard. She can inject a carefully portioned amount of venom into the body of her victims so that it won't kill them but it will cause them agonising pain for hours on end. And once she does that, she can't make it stop. You might want to consider that when you are in her presence."

Lillymon's eyes widened in horror at the thought and she continued her thrashing anew, desperately trying to escape – to free any body part, to fight back. To do something. And she was rather surprised when she actually succeeded in kicking the Spider that was over the top of her in the stomach and almost knocking it from its perch completely, though it managed to grip on with three legs and quickly hauled itself back up.

The Digimon flinched as the Spider surged over her and glared down at her angrily. "If you were scheduled for an audience with the Queen I would kill you where you lie for that," it hissed. "I hope you don't talk at first. It will be most amusing to watch the Queen trying to break you."

Lillymon whimpered again as the Spider brought up its abdomen and pulled out a roll of extra silk from its spinnerets and proceeded to wrap it around her upper head and eyes, blindfolding her and leaving her utterly in the dark. Being able to see nothing was ten times worse than actually seeing what was going on and her skin crawled as it took her up in its legs and tossed her through the air.

She squealed as she sailed across the gap towards the ground, but she landed in a thick Spider web which arrest her fall and clung to her already webbed body. She could hear the sounds of scurrying around her and moment later she was swinging through the air a fair distance with no knowledge of how close the ground was or whether she was close to hitting anything, before she was reeled up and flung through the air again by another Spider.

This was how they had been transporting her for most of yesterday. They would throw her into a web and carefully snip away certain threads that would get her to go swinging in the direction she wanted before they hauled her up and repeated the process.

And now, Lillymon could only whine and stare sightlessly into the silk over her eyes, listening to sounds of scuttling feet around her and wriggling as she was thrown again and again and again.

_Someone,_ she thought to herself. _Shoutmon. Anyone. Help me._

* * *

As the Spiders pushed on towards the darker parts of the woods, they were unaware that they were being watched by one individual screen. The three Elite Monitamon, after escaping from the Spiders with their quick speed and their lightweight stealth, had been keeping an eye on things ever since. As they tried to find Lillymon again and reunite with her, they had been _horrified_ when they found that she was now in the clutches of the terrible, horrible creatures.

They now watched helplessly as Lillymon was transported haphazardly across the woodland from the shadows, as they had been doing for the past day.

They knew they needed to rescue her, especially since they had overheard a lot of what the Spiders had been saying.

But there were two problems with that.

Problem one, the web that bound Lillymon was incredibly strong and they knew it. The forest around them was practically draped in shawls of the stuff and in order to follow the Spiders they were having to be extra careful when leaping around to ensure that they didn't plunge through the stuff, hindering their progress more than they would like. They had more than once already put a foot into a piece of webbing and it had taken a considerable amount of effort on their part to pull it loose. Lillymon, on the other hand, was coated with the stuff. How were they supposed to get it off her? They had nothing sharp to cut it with.

They sometimes wished they could produce shuriken like other ninja Digimon. But they couldn't. They could produce fire, wind, water and lightning in small amounts, but of those only the fire might be potentially useful and that could harm Lillymon too.

Second, of course, were the Spiders themselves. There were over a score of them transporting their captive friend and at least half of them had always been watching Lillymon even through the night. There was no way that they could rescue her without them noticing and there was no way that the three of them could fight them all off. They were among the best of the best when it came to being a Monitamon, but Monitamon were not very powerful even then. Their skills lay in creeping around, not in open combat.

If Taiki or Nene had been there, they could have DigiXrossed the three of them together to form a Hi-VisionMonitamon, which _was_ quite good at fighting. But when separated, they were not strong. They might have been able to take out one or two of the Spiders between them but twenty? Not a chance.

Now, long after Lillymon's capture, E-Monitamon-2 was still watching her, keeping track of where the Spiders were going and trying to stay hidden as he did so. The Monitamon was holding both of Lillymon's discarded boots, which had been pulled off in her fight against the Spiders and been recovered later by the three ninjas. He hoped that he would be able to give those boots back to the taller Digimon soon.

And where were the other two?

Well, they had currently split up, using the relays on the top of their headsets to keep in touch with one another, and were searching around the forest for anyone who could help them. Thus far they had come up empty, as their range was limited to only a couple of miles before they lost contact with one another in this forest and they were determined to stay in contact through that time. The last thing they needed was to get separated at this stage.

"Anything?" E-Monitamon-2 asked into the silent com channel that they shared between them.

"No," came the reply from E-Monitamon-3. "Nothing from me."

"I got nothing either," confirmed their final member. "How's it looking over there?"

"The Spiders are on the move again," E-Monitamon-2 whined, broadcasting the image over the link. "They've got her blindfolded now too, and they're definitely taking her somewhere. I overheard them talking about their Queen. That's where they're taking her."

"At least she's still alright," E-Monitamon-1 said.

"Yeah, but for how much longer," fretted E-Monitamon-3. "We don't know anything about what they want. We don't know how far away their destination is or what will happen when they get there… We have to do something."

"There's nothing we can do now," wailed E-Monitamon-2. "I wish we were more powerful. But rescuing her now would be a suicide mission and we should try and find a way of doing it where we might _not_ get killed before we try something like that. But still… we've got to try something. And soon, I think."

"We are Xros Heart members too," E-Monitamon-1 agreed. "We won't turn our backs on her for our own safety. If we can't find any help soon…"

He let the rest of the statement hang. The others knew what he meant. If they had to go charged to their deaths they would but they would have to try something. Preferably _before_ this mysterious Queen arrived on the scene.

* * *

"Curse them," a voice muttered in the darkness of the woods. "Curse them all."

Booted feet stepped nimbly onto the top of a fallen log and walked across it deftly, coming to a stop at the base of another tree, the trunk of which was plastered in a lot of webbing. A hand with elegant fingers reached up and lightly tapped the webbing, which immediately clung to the tips of the fingers as they pulled slowly back, thought they were rather thin and old threads so it didn't take very long for them to break.

Still a few strands of them clung to the fingers, the owner of which lifted them up before its eyes and rubbed them slightly before kneeling down and wiping it off on the bark of the moss-covered log she was standing on.

"They're getting bolder," the voice said – a female voice. And the figure stepped out into an ever-so slightly brighter patch of woodland, revealing the pointed ears, sharp face and long brown hair of an Elf Maiden. Her name was Tauriel, head of the Elven Guard of Mirkwood. A pair of daggers were strapped to either side of her hips and a quiver of arrows rested on her back, the bow clutched in one hand at her side. "Curse those Spiders, encroaching on our domain like this. They haven't been this bold in about six decades."

She leapt off the fallen log and proceeded quietly through the trees, at quite a steady clip, each foot treading with utmost lightness and barely making any sound, and yet the Elf maiden never even once looked at where she was putting them. It was as if she knew all the best places of the forest to step on in order to remain silent. There are some things about the Elves and their knowledge of nature and the woodlands that would forever remain unfathomable to the likes of mortal Men.

Tauriel was out right now with an Elvish scouting party, but quite often she liked to make her own way through the woodlands. The other Elves were not far away somewhere and she would be able to find them again without any problem once she wanted to double back, but out of personal choice and habit she liked being alone. It raised her own awareness of her surroundings when there were not others watching her back.

She stepped closer towards another large patch of webs that clung to the branches of a clump of trees like a massive net or drape. She sniffed the air and her ears twitched, listening for any signs of company, but there was nothing. There seemed to be no sign of any Spiders nearby but there was no doubt that they had been here. Recently too. The patrol that they had undergone just last week and shown no webbing in this part of the wood whatsoever.

The Spiders were leaving their webs everywhere and hoping to catch something in them. And they were succeeding. Tauriel had already stopped three times in the last hour to rescue a fox or a badger that had been caught in the folds of sticky stuff, and about six times to free a small bird.

"They're like a plague," she muttered to herself as she stepped past the webbed grove. "Spreading outwards and outwards, further and further as the days pass. How much longer will it be before they reach the northern parts of our Kingdom. Curse that Sauron. Sending such monsters against us yet again."

She frowned and added, "Perhaps we should try and head down towards Dol Guldur. None of us have been there for a while. It's almost certain that it's been taken over again by the forces of evil."

As she spoke to herself, her ears suddenly twitched again, picking up a very faint and almost indistinguishable sound in the air – the ever so slight creak of a branch that had been landed on, followed by a swift, whooshing noise. No Man would have been able to hear it, but Elf ears, eyes and noses were all much sharper than theirs could ever be.

Tauriel retreated into the shadows a little, listening intently. There it was again, and again – the noise of something moving very quickly and landing lightly on branches. It couldn't be a squirrel – they didn't make that kind of noise when they moved, but she also knew that it was not a Spider. When they moved, they did so with regular tapping footsteps. Nothing like the noise whatever this thing was making.

But Tauriel still couldn't be sure of what it was.

Then she saw something out of the corner of her eye; a quick movement so fast that it might have been missed by even most Elves, especially considering the darkness of the woods. And there it was again, and again – like something quite small but very fast, too fast for even Tauriel to make out, was flitting through the trees and around the webs not far away from her.

Tauriel grimaced. She'd never come across anything that did that before, but it certainly wasn't a Spider. Perhaps it was a new kind of servant of darkness that had some strange abilities that she had never seen before. Nevertheless, she knew that she couldn't jump to conclusions, but she could not let this pass either. She would have to investigate.

And she knew just how.

Like most Elves, Tauriel was a spectacular wielder of the bow and arrow. They were frighteningly accurate and their long, unaging lives gave them plenty of time to practice it. Silent as breath, Tauriel unhooked the bow from her body and in a single, fluid motion she drew an arrow from her quiver, notched it to the string and pulled it back into firing position without even looking at what she was doing, carefully looking down the shaft as she aimed it in the direction of the blur, calculating the speed that it was moving at and trying to get a read on where it was going to move next.

It was difficult even for her. The thing seemed to be moving in an almost random pattern and it was getting closer to her by the second. But, after a couple of seconds of consideration, Tauriel's fingers pulled back off the bowstring which sprang back to its original position and bolted the arrow out to slam into the trunk of a tree in the creature's path. She had deliberately fired it so that it would miss but that it would also stop the things advance.

It worked better than she had assumed. The little blur drew to a halt and tried to backpedal so fast that it completely lost its balance and tipped backwards off the branch that it had landed on with a yell of surprised. Tauriel moved swiftly out of the undergrowth as it dropped towards the ground like a stone, readying another arrow just in case it tried to run off again.

Though she needn't have bothered. The strange, green thing plunged through a couple of strands of webbing, which stretched like elastic down towards the floor, jerking to a halt just before the creature hit the floor, dangling it there a couple of feet from the ground, where it kicked and flailed wildly and only succeeded in further enwrapping itself.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Tauriel advised it, causing it to freeze up as she stepped closer, the notched arrow half pulled back and aimed warningly at the creature. "You'll only get yourself in a further mess."

"Who are you?" the creature asked.

"Ah, so you can speak," Tauriel nodded. "Good. That means that you can answer questions, of which I have a fair few. However, I shall be the one to be asking most of them here. You are on our land, after all."

Tauriel stared at the thing in bewilderment for a couple of extra moment. She'd heard of Halflings, which were about the size of a young Elf child around thirteen years of age, most of them over three feet tall but most of them not reaching four feet. In fact, she had met a Halfling once. But this thing was far smaller than a Halfling – it would have only reached up to her knee, if that, if it was standing on its feet. Other than that it seemed to have a basic shape of two arms, legs and torso but she could not fathom for the life of her what was up with its head.

"Take off your helmet," she instructed.

"Helmet?" the creature said. "I don't have a helmet."

"Then what is that on your head?" she asked.

"What this?" the creature tried to point to the strange object sticking out of the top of its head.

"That too, but I was referring to that thing obscuring your face."

"There nothing covering my face. This thing is my face, see." And Tauriel was startled when the flat screen that served as the front of his head suddenly displayed a picture that looked vaguely like a smiling face drawn in white lines. Tauriel was not usually startled by anything but that had been unexpected.

"That is… your face?" she blinked. Then she frowned and said, "What are you then? And no lies. Are you a minion of the Dark Lord, Sauron?"

"Who? No, I am not a minion," the creature objected. "I'm a Digimon. A Monitamon to be exact. Are you a human?"

"Human? I do not know of these humans you speak of, but I am an Elf. But I believe that I said that I was asking the questions here. Where did you come from? What is your business in this part of the world? I have never heard of your kind before? Digimon, or Monitamon, or whatever you may be."

"We're lost," the Monitamon, which happened to be E-Monitamon-3, explained. "We found ourselves stranded in this place a couple of nights ago and we were wondering around ever since, trying to find someone."

"We?" Tauriel asked, sharply. "There are more of you?"

"Yes, there are three other Digimon here in this wood that I know of, and two of them are Monitamon like me. But the other one is a Lillymon and she's been captured by those big, horrible Spider thingies. I've been looking around for someone to help but…"

"…Captured?" Tauriel interrupted. "You mean the Giant Spiders around here have ensnared a comrade of yours in their foul webs?"

"Yes, exactly that," the Monitamon nodded emphatically. "We're really worried about her but we can't help her – we're too weak to fight them off and rescue her, and they are taking her away somewhere?"

"Taking her?" Tauriel asked. "They are transporting a captive across the forest? That is not ordinary Spider behaviour. Normally they will string up something they catch for a few hours, while still alive, and then they will stab them with their stingers to paralyze them and then devour them."

"They're going to eat her?" the Monitamon wailed, in real distress. "Oh no, that's what we thought they were going to do, but first we think they're taking her to their Queen or something like that. That's what we overheard them saying anyway."

Tauriel nodded. The strange creature's story did add up in some sense. If there were strange creatures stranded in this place then the Spiders might indeed want to know what they were dealing with for the future, though she had never heard of them taking someone to their Queen before. The Spider Queen had remained elusive even to the Elves, but they had overheard that her name was Saenathra or something like that, though they still had yet to find out her location.

And the creature's distress and panic seemed to be real enough.

"Please," the Monitamon pleaded. "Can you do anything to help her, like call some friends or something? Lillymon's been trapped all night and we've only been able to stand by and watch. We have to help her. She's an innocent Digimon and we can't let those things eat her. Please. Will you help us?"

Tauriel regarded the creature with a degree of suspicion. There was every possibility that everything it had said to her during the course of this conversation had been a lie; a clever story to conceal its true intentions or lead her into a trap. How could she ensure that if this was some kind of evil plot, it wouldn't work?"

There was a chirping noise from a nearby branch, and Tauriel looked up to see a small bird with a black face and bib, red chest, white underbelly and crown and grey back – a redstart – sitting there and looking at her. Tauriel smirked and held up a hand, which the redstart flitted onto with any hesitation at all. Tauriel held it close to her face and whispered quietly to it. So quietly that the Monitamon could barely work out that she was talking at all, but the redstart chirped in understanding as soon as she'd finished. Then she flicked her hand and the redstart sprang off and flitted away through the trees at a fast clip.

Tauriel then turned back to the dangling Monitamon and drew her dagger. The Monitamon yelped and cringed as she slashed deftly through the webbing mere half a centimetre from its sides in a single arcing motion, so it dropped to the ground with a slight bump.

"Alright then," she said, twirling an arrow between her fingers. "Take me to your friend. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

The Monitamon and the Elf proceeded quickly through the woodlands, moving swiftly around the webs as they hurried on into the darkness. E-Monitamon-3 had called E-Monitamon-1 back and the two of them met up before they reached their other companion, drawing Tauriel's attention as the latter came in from the sight and wordlessly continued running with them. How it had known where to go or what was happening she did not know, but it asked no questions and just kept pace with them.

It wasn't long before she heard the sounds of scuttling up ahead, which could only be the multitude of Spider legs hitting the ground and clambering over the trunks time and time again. Tauriel slowed slightly and continued her stealthy approach, following the two Monitamon as they ascended slightly higher above, her eyes piercing through the gloom as she saw the mass of moving Spiders in the trees before her.

And she heard another sound too, the sound of a slight squeal now and again, and she quickly pinpointed its location to the bundle of silk that was being flung across a gap and caught up in a web nearby. She focused on it and analysed it carefully – it appeared to be humanoid in shape, around five feet, four inches tall, making it slightly taller than most Dwarves but not as tall as a grown Man or Elf. But it certainly was not a Dwarf – the build was all wrong. It was far too slender and it also appeared to have a pink flower on top of its head, which no Dwarf had.

There was no doubt that the Spiders had a captive and they were taking it somewhere just as the Monitamon had said. She couldn't see much of the creature due to the silk wrappings around it and she couldn't tell if the flower was a part of its body or ornamental only, so she couldn't be sure that this was a new creature she had never before seen, or perhaps a young Elf that had not yet grown to its full height and had gotten lost.

But whatever the case, it was clear someone was in trouble.

A third Monitamon met up with the others above Tauriel's head as she watched the Spiders snip away part of their web to swing their captive away and then haul it back up onto their branch before making ready to throw it again. For some reason this Monitamon was holding a pair of green boots adorned with yellow flowers on its heels and a yellow flower pattern on their toe sections.

"It's so horrible to watch," muttered E-Monitamon-2. "We have to do something now?"

"Please, Miss Elf," E-Monitamon-3 said, hopping down towards Tauriel and putting its hands together like it was praying. "Is there anything that you can do for our friend? We don't want her to get eaten or tortured or whatever will happen to her when they get where they're going."

Tauriel nodded her head, now totally sure that this was not a trap. Deftly, she drew one dagger from her sheath and held it out to E-Monitamon-3, who started and slowly took it from her hand, bemused.

"Spider silk is a tough substance," she said. "But Elvish blades are capable of cutting through it. When you think things are clear, then use that to cut your friend loose."

"But… what…?" another of the Monitamon protested.

"No time for further questions," Tauriel said, stringing an arrow to her bowstring. "Just make sure that you wait until the right moment to act and make sure that they don't see you doing it." And then she darted forwards into the shadow of a nearby tree and released her arrow in a furious beeline up into the trees.

* * *

Lillymon had no idea what was going on around her anymore, beyond the process of her travel but she continued thrashing as another Spider lifted her up in its feet, pulling her up and out of its horrible, hairy embrace and prepared to throw her again, but before it did, she heard a heavy thunk and a squeal from her captor before suddenly she was released and fell with a thump back onto the branch she had been on before, all the wind knocked out of her and wondering what had happened as she gasped to get it back.

But the Spiders had all seen what had happened and screeched in rage as the Spider tipped backwards off the branch, an arrow embedded in the back of its head. It crashed to the ground and writhed about, its legs flailing randomly in all directions before it still and died.

"Attack!" one of them yelled. "It's Elves!"

"Perhaps you'd like to try and obtain a fresh morsel while you're here," a female voice rang out through the woods before another arrow shot out of the shadows below and thudded into another Spider's face, followed by another before the first had even hit, which lanced into the underside of another Spider right in the belly. Both the culprits screamed and thrashed, the former dying as it fell to the forest floor and the latter convulsing in pain as the arrow snapped but remained lodged inside it.

Lillymon whimpered a questioning, "Mmph?" into her gag, but the Spiders were no longer paying attention to her and were trying to root out the source of their attacker as a fourth arrow lashed out from beneath them and slam into another Spider's abdomen. Then, their attacker rolled out of the shadow and came to a crouching halt with arrow already of the string, loosing it upwards and right into another Spider's bulbous eye.

"There!" yelled one of the Spiders. "It's just one Elf! Get it!"

"Never underestimate our kind," Tauriel half-smirked, half-grimaced as the Spiders surged towards her with furious clicks and thumps of their many legs. She shot off another arrow that went through the nearest Spider's open mouthparts and then hurried backwards as the rest swarmed through the trees towards her, never pausing in her stride as she fired another arrow that punctured the abdomen of yet another.

But the Spiders were incredibly fast on their many feet and very quickly they gained ground on her, several of them falling or clambering to the ground and running through the undergrowth at her while others scuttled over the tree branches. Tauriel relaxed her bow string and turned around, taking off into the forest with swift strides, pursued by the onrushing cluster of giant arachnids.

"You've made a mistake wandering from your territory, Elf!" one of them cried.

"This _is_ our territory," Tauriel called back, pulling another arrow from her quiver as she ran. A Spider in a tree above her sprang forwards with a colossal leap and sailing at her with stinger ready and legs spread but Tauriel threw herself into a forward rolling, pulling the bowstring back even as she rolled onto her back and firing the arrow up into its underbelly mid-roll. The Spider squealed and crashed to the floor, twitching as Tauriel finished the roll back onto her feet and darted to the side, more of the Spiders closing in on her and dashing around their fallen comrade.

Two more Spiders closed in from the side, motoring their legs to catch up with the running Elf. Tauriel drew her remaining dagger as one Spider reared up and leapt at her, swinging her bow upwards like a staff to meet its fangs and block their strike, plunging her dagger twice into its underbelly in rapid succession and shoving it backwards.

The other Spider ran in from the side swiped at her with its legs but Tauriel jumped upwards and landed on the Spider's back. The Spider immediately reared upwards and Tauriel sprang off at the same moment, thrown upwards where she grabbed a tree branch and nimbly swung up and onto it, whirling deftly around and firing another arrow into the Spider's back before it realised where she had gone.

"We've got you now," other Spiders called excitedly as they thundered towards her from many directions through the trees, some of the others closing in from beneath to cut off her escape down. Undaunted, Tauriel ran across the branch with a Spider close behind her, fangs waving wildly at her feet. Moments before it caught up, Tauriel leapt into the air and whipped around to fire another arrow into her pursuer as she did so, throwing it off the branch as the arrow struck its side as she landed backwards on another nearby branch.

A hissing from above her alerted her to the presence of another Spider, which lashed down at her from the branch it was holding onto with its stinger. Tauriel lashed up with her dagger and parried the strike, falling into a backwards roll across the branch moments later and flinging her dagger up at it the moment she was back on her feet. The Spider, which had been about to jump on her, met cold steel that lashed into its neck, causing it to tip off the branch and land with a thud onto its back, another Spider on the ground having to dodge it to avoid being trapped beneath it.

That Spider suddenly had an Elf on its back moments later as Tauriel leapt from the branch and crashed down on it, flattening its legs against the ground before she sprang off, yanked her dagger out of the fallen Spider and took off again.

She saw Spiders coming in from the front of her and turned to the side, but saw more Spiders coming from that direction. Whirling around she saw that she was surrounded by them now and they were closing in rapidly from all directions. Despite her efforts so far, valiant as they had been, there were still over a dozen of them dashing in from around her and the one she had flattened to the ground was getting back up, groggy but eager to keep up the charge.

Tauriel whipped around and her eyes focused of a large pile of boulders close by. She hurtled towards it, sheathing her dagger as she did so, as the Spiders she was running towards piled on more speed. One surged around the boulder pile and lashed at her with its palps as she reached its base and dashed up it, narrowly avoiding that lashing appendages that scrabbled at the rocks behind her.

She reached the top of the pile and bounded off, sailing through the air as she put all her effort into the jump and flying over another two Spiders which pulled to a halt underneath her. One of them reared upwards and tried vainly to grab her but she was out of reach and she seized a branch and swung from it, catapulting herself forwards and landing a distance outside the circle of Spiders.

The arachnids turned around and motored for her again, but she fired off two arrows into the lead Spider before it could get three paces and then hared off once more, the remaining dozen or so infuriated and hungry for Elvish flesh.

* * *

One of the Giant Spiders was not chasing the Elf around. Without needing to be instructed, while the others had gone off in pursuit of their attacker, this one had stayed behind to guard their captive. Now, it was standing over the entangled Lillymon like a hairy sentinel, straining to see what was going on in the distance with the chase, but the Elf and the other Spiders were already out of sight.

Its emotionless black eyes looked down at the squirming Lillymon was gently rubbing her face against the branch she was lying on, trying vainly to pull the blindfold from over her eyes, though it remained firmly in place. The Spider hissed and reached forward with a leg, placing it on the small of Lillymon's back warningly and almost snickering as Lillymon froze up at its touch and whimpered.

"You should have learned by now to stop struggling," the Spider told it. "It won't do you any good. Perhaps I should inject a little venom into you right now to paralyse you. That would stop your squirming."

Lillymon made no sound but shook her head wildly, signalling her thoughts on the matter.

"You don't want to," the Spider asked. "Then stop trying to resist. Who knows? You might have some company soon in the form of an Elf. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"Mm whmm?" Lillymon asked.

"And that includes not speaking," the Spider hissed, reaching forwards and placing a foot on Lillymon's covered mouth. The Digimon froze up again instantly and if the Spider could have grinned, it would have. This was one of the benefits of not eating your prey straight away. You got to scare them half to death first before-hand.

"That's better," it said.

"**WIND WHEEL!"**

"**FIRE SHOT!"**

"**LIGHTNING FLASH!"**

"Huh?" the Spider said.

"Mmf?" Lillymon agreed.

Before the Spider knew what was happening, it was struck full in the side by a small tornado of fire with a miniature lightning bolt flashing through the middle of it. The three Monitamon had leapt from hiding at the Spider guardian and thrown their attacks at him simultaneously. Individually the attacks were weak, but together they combined into a reasonable sized attack that slammed the Spider and charred and fried its side, flinging it from its perch and send it hurtling to the ground, blackened.

But it was still alive even as it landed on its back, and while it squirmed and flailed wildly, albeit in agony, the Monitamon with the dagger jumped down after it and stabbed the dagger into its underbelly. The Spider let loose a shrill noise of pain, but then slumped, dead.

The other two Monitamon landed on the branch either side of Lillymon. "Lillymon," one of them said, running up to her webbed head. "It's us, the Monitamon. We've come to rescue you."

"Momimamm?" Lillymon attempted to gasp. "Mou mame? Wasm appemmin?"

"Wait, just hold still," E-Monitamon-1 said, as E-Monitamon-3 hurried upwards from below and easily climbed up to the branch. "Let us free you. You need to be still."

Lillymon quickly froze as E-Monitamon-3 carefully moved up to her, avoiding the webbing that was draped over the branch. Once he reached her head, the other Monitamon moved out of the way and watched as he carefully pulled at the webbing around Lillymon's eyes and cut through it with the little dagger, which sliced through the webbing relatively easily. Lillymon held still and the Monitamon carefully avoided cutting her face accidentally, while E-Monitamon-1 stepped up and peeled the webbing away from her face, leaving her able to see again.

The Monitamon quickly repeated the process with the wrappings on her lower face, cutting and pulling it aside. They were rather surprised to see the ball of wadded up silk in Lillymon's mouth but they quickly pulled the sticky mess out too, leaving Lillymon spitting and coughing briefly as they moved down to her shoulders to keep cutting her loose.

"You guys… you came for me," she breathed, a smile of gratitude on her face. "Oh, thank you all. You have no idea how terrifying that was, to be… constantly… in those foul creature's grasps and hearing them talk about what they were going to do…"

"We couldn't leave you behind," E-Monitamon-2 said from by her feet. "And I brought your boots. I thought you might want them back."

"You brought…" Lillymon blinked as her shoulders were freed from the constraints. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much for coming. But… where did all the Spiders go?"

"We found some help. Something called an Elf, which looks like a human but isn't. She's lured the Spiders away so that we can rescue her. But we need to get you out of here before they come back so we can help her."

Lillymon nodded. "Then, free my arms," she said, rolling with some difficulty on the wide branch onto her front and straining against the cocoon that still pinned her arms together and balled her hands into fists. "Quick."

The Monitamon worked quickly and efficiently, but carefully, pulling and stretching as much of the stuff as they could before cutting it to avoid nicking Lillymon's arms, as well of the rest of her and pretty soon, Lillymon's arms were out of their casings. She groaned in relief as she was finally able to flex her fingers again – they had been clenched together for so long now that they had been cramping up.

The Monitamon quickly moved down to free her legs and Lillymon rolled back over and sat up, reaching forwards as best she could to help them with the job of unwrapping her bare legs. With their combined efforts they quickly got them out of the webbing, and Lillymon could finally pull them apart, with another audible groan, but there was still a large amount of webbing plastered all over her in various places and coating her pink dress. But she could move. And that was what mattered.

"Are you okay, Lillymon?" the Monitamon asked simultaneously as she pushed herself to her feet, stretching her arms and pulling great lumps of sticky web from her front and back and trying to wipe it off against the branch beneath her.

"Yes… yeah… I'm okay now," she said. "Thanks to you guys. Seriously I … I can't thank you enough."

"No, we were glad to do it," the Monitamon said, smiley faces appearing on their screens. "We're part of Xros Heart," E-Monitamon-2 added, displaying the symbol that resembled Shoutmon's face on his own. "We'd never leave you behind."

"Thank you," Lillymon said, staring briefly at the symbol that Shoutmon had created that resembled himself, and wishing that he was here with her, before going back to unplastering herself. Eventually she managed to get most of the thicker parts of the webbing off her body, though there were still a multitude of sticky strands across her here and there.

"Here are your boots," E-Monitamon-2 said, offering them to her.

"Thank you," repeated Lillymon, taking them and pulling one back on. "But we have to get out of here now and quickly. You say there's someone that drew the Spiders off then we have to help her too. If they catch her then they'll eat her and we can't let that happen. No matter what."

"What do we do?" E-Monitamon-1 asked.

Lillymon blinked. The three of them were looking to her for guidance. Why? Why would they do something like that? She was the one that had gotten herself captured and into this mess in the first place. Yet they had displayed hopeful looking faces on their screens and were waiting for her to decide their next move.

She voiced those concerns moments later. "Why are you asking me? I'm not a leader. I got captured. I failed. You're the ones that rescued me."

"Yeah, but you're the one that gave us our chance to escape," E-Monitamon-3 said. "You're the one that was leading us through the forest before the Spiders came across us and you freed one of us from that web. You tried to distract the Spiders from us so that they would not look for us. What do you think we should do now?"

Lillymon felt quite flustered and really didn't know how to proceed – they were putting far too much faith in her for their liking. But considering they appeared to be waiting on her word and she didn't want to disappoint them she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, her legs stiff after so long being mostly immobile.

"Well, uh…" she stuttered. "I guess we… have to help that other person and then get the heck out of here."

"And how do we do that?" E-Monitamon-1 asked.

"One second," Lillymon said, reaching around behind her and pulling a few more strands of silk from her back, before slowly and carefully unfolding her four wings. The Spiders had pinned them down underneath her arms when wrapping her up to maximise the chances of her being able to unfold them and escape. And thankfully they didn't appear to be showing any signs of further damage despite her prolonged captivity.

Lillymon looked up at her injured wing, which had considerably worsened during her wild escape attempt from the Spiders before. But now, after a long time of her wing literally being held straight underneath the silk wrappings it had actually almost completely healed again. It was still a little raw and not totally straightened out yet but it was actually quite close.

"Well, I suppose some good came out of me being trapped in those webs for so long," she murmured. Then she turned towards the Monitamon and said, "Which way did the Spiders go then?"

"That way," E-Monitamon-1 pointed northwards.

"Alright," Lillymon said. "Then… I guess that we head over that way and see what we can do."

* * *

Tauriel had managed to kill another three Spiders as she madly darted through the trees with some of the others on her trail, but there were still at least ten of them after her and all angrier than ever. Though to be honest, Tauriel wasn't counting them. She was just keeping ahead of them as best she could, but they were getting closer to her.

Still, she was holding her own. She was the Captain of the Guard of Mirkwood for a reason after all.

She fled from one Spider that was flailing at her with its palps and fangs and ran towards the base of a tree, planting a foot on it and flinging herself upwards and into a backflip without breaking her pace, as the Spider crashed into the tree face-first. Tauriel landed next to it and plunged her dagger into its side to finish it off, but was forced to running again as two more thundered towards her.

As she slid underneath a half-fallen log and whirled around to fire an arrow over the top of it that took down another of the Spiders she turned around and blanched slightly at what she saw, her face twisting into a grimace moments later. There were yet more Spiders hurtling towards her from the recesses of the woods. Apparently her battle with these ones had been detected by another group from nearby, this one even larger than the last, and they all wanted a piece of that action.

Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all.

Another Spider cut off her thinking as it rounded the log and leapt at her. Tauriel moved without thinking and cartwheeled onto the log as it landed where she had been, shooting it at close range with another angle before she ran up the diagonal trunk, seeking to make another leap over the group of Spiders and continue heading North. But as she sprang into a forwards flip off the edge of the log and over the heads of the Spiders yet again, something shot through the trees at high speed and seized her by the ankles while she was in mid-flip, jerking her out of her trajectory and yanking her through the air in a northerly direction.

"What?!" Tauriel gasped, seizing her dagger and thinking a Spider had managed to hit her out of nowhere, until she looked up. She was shocked to see that the being holding her ankle was a humanoid with a pink dress decorated with yellow leaf-patterns on the top half, long green arm gloves adorned with petal-like decorations at the wrists and no hand covers, blurring wings and a pink flower on her head over her ivy-like hair.

It could only be the creature that had been held captive by the Spiders before. For one thing it was wearing the boots the Monitamon had been holding before. For another the Monitamon themselves where holding onto her legs and arms as best they could.

"Sorry for the rough entrance!" Lillymon called down.

"You must be Lillymon," Tauriel stated.

"Yes, I must," nodded Lillymon. "Thank you for distracting the Spiders away from me so my friends could rescue me."

"My pleasure, but right now we still have to escape from them," Tauriel relaxed so she was being carried upside down and could look back at the oncoming Spider horde which had increased significantly in number, while Lillymon dodged and shot around the trees. The Spiders were catching up with her, weighed down as she was with the Elf she was carrying upside-down.

Tauriel pulled another arrow from her quiver – many Elves had lodestones built into the bottom of their quivers to keep their arrows from falling out at inconvenient times so all the ones she had not loosed where still in there even at this angle – and fired into the ranks, felling a Spider and causing a small pile up behind it as others ran into it, but others quickly recovered and scampered or around the fallen ones. The Elf quickly began to let fly with arrow after arrow, her aim true even despite the unusual angle and Lillymon's ducking and whirring and attempt to keep Tauriel from hitting the branches and avoiding more webs in the process.

"Any ideas?" Lillymon called down to her.

"Keep heading north!" Tauriel called. "Things will work out!"

Lillymon frowned in bemusement but did as instructed, trying to increase her pace as the Spiders surged along after them. But Tauriel reached down to her side and pulled a small horn from her waist, fitting it into her mouth and blowing into it, producing a loud and slightly reedy sounding blaring noise.

"Now put me down!" she said. "We don't want them to think that you're trying to abduct me."

Lillymon was about to question who, but decided to hold the questions for the consequences of what Tauriel was saying sounded serious. She swooped low to the ground and gave Tauriel the flip she needed to land on her feet and continue running with pause, and the two of them hurried along, side by side, neither knowing anything much about the other but allied through their mutual dislike of and pursuit by the Spiders.

"They freed the creature!" one of the Spiders yelled. "Don't let them get away!"

"Well, they really want you, don't they?" Tauriel said as she ran.

"I'd prefer that I stay out of their reach, thank you," Lillymon stated.

"You and me both," Tauriel agreed.

"They're getting closer!" one of the Monitamon cried as the Spiders hurtled along towards them.

But at that moment there was another loud and nearly identical blaring sound from directly up ahead – another horn being blown. Lillymon blinked and then started as a volley of arrows lanced seemingly out of nowhere through the trees and swept towards them, lashing right by them on all sides to fall upon the front ranks of the Spiders like weaponised hailstones. The front score or so of Spiders were felled instantly and piled up in front of the others, which pulled to a halt and let loose screeches and clicks by the dozen.

And though Lillymon could hardly claim to speak Spider, she thought that they sounded not only angry, but also fearful. The Spiders were scared.

And apparently they had good reason to be, for Tauriel turned around and unleashed another arrow from her bow. And appearing out of the trees all around her, some from behind trunks, some from the undergrowth and some in the branches, came more Elves. Around thirty of them, male and female alike but all with long, flowing hair and pointed ears and each one with bows in their hands and arrows at the ready, unleashing another volley into the Spider horde. It was the rest of Tauriel's scouting party that she had left to strike out on her own for a while before.

The redstart that Tauriel had sent off into the woodlands landed on a branch besides Tauriel and chirped, puffing out its chest and looking pleased with itself.

"Thanks my friend," Tauriel nodded to it, and unleashed another arrow along with the multitude of other Elves around them.

Despite the fact that the Spiders held the superior number now, they had no hope of gaining any further ground underneath the near avalanche of arrows that fell amongst them, riddling their bodies with wounds and felling them where they stood by the score. The Elves were quick, efficient and deadly and they took no prisoners. Certainly not any Spider prisoners. And though each one of them were wondering what the heck Lillymon and the Monitamon were supposed to be they were all putting the question aside for now. If they were with Tauriel then they were not the enemy – they were sure of that.

"Whoa, these guys are good," E-Monitamon-3 said, as Lillymon landed and they hopped off her.

"No kidding," E-Monitamon-1 agreed.

Lillymon turned back to look at the Spiders, which where shrieking, flailing and scuttling about as the arrow hordes rained down upon them. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she murmured, "Well, as long as we're not running away anymore… I do have to pay them back a little for earlier." And she clapped her hands together.

Tauriel, watching out of the corner of her eye, faltered in surprise when she saw the petals on her arm-gloves grow around her hands and then peel back to reveal something like a metal tube that had not previously been there, which Lillymon pointed at the Spiders.

"**FLOWER CANNON!"** she yelled.

All of the Elves were startled by the blast of green energy blast that burst from the tip of the cannon and bolted across the woods to crash into the Spider ranks and obliterate two of them where they stood. The Spiders squealed in agitation but another bolt of energy from the same source that vaporised another two convinced them that this wasn't worth it anymore. Their prey had escaped them and now they were dying by the dozen. They had been taken off guard and now they had little option but to turn and run, or die.

The Elves were not know for long lapses and despite their initial shock at the blasts they quickly recovered and continued their arrow barrage, felling several more of the backrunning Spiders as they scuttled away back into the trees. Lillymon sent off one final Flower Cannon as a goodbye, which hit the ground right behind the backmost Spider's abdomen and exploded, catapulting it into the air and sending it flailing about fifteen feet before landing with a thud on its back. It didn't kill the Spider but it was quite satisfying to see it happen. But the Spider, with effort, flipped back on to its front and moved off after the others.

The Elves did not pursue. They knew the enemy well, and if they followed they knew they could find _themselves_ in a trap instead if they walked right into a Spider lair and got surrounded. Better to call this a victory and make sure they all got out alive than do something stupid and reckless like that.

But now they were all staring at Lillymon warily. None of them pointed their arrows at her, but each one of them had one notched to the string of their bows and their arms tensed just in case they needed to pull back and let fly.

"Captain Tauriel," one of the Elves, a tall male, stepped forwards. "You found yourself in trouble again, I see."

"This time it was deliberate," Tauriel chuckled, without taking her eyes off Lillymon as the Digimon lowered her hands and dispelled her Flower Cannon.

"And you have company," the Elf stated needlessly, scanning Lillymon with his eyes. "Of… an unusual sort."

"Indeed, Fion," Tauriel agreed. "A very unusual sort if I do say so myself. You needn't ask me what they are, for I only know a little more than you at this stage. However, I believe I can assure you all that they are friendly. They helped me to get out of range of those Spiders after all. The small ones asked me to rescue the other one, for she had been caught by those self-same Spiders."

Her words caused the other Elves around her to relax a little more, but they were still wary.

Lillymon pulled another strand of Spider silk from her shoulder. "I… I want to thank you for what you did for me back there. Without your help, I would still be back there in the clutches of those… monsters. But thanks to you, I'm okay and I'm free."

"It was my pleasure," Tauriel nodded. "I owed those Spiders a good battle for encroaching on our lands anyway."

"What… exactly where they?" Lillymon asked.

"We have no name for their kind other than that of the Giant Spider," Tauriel replied. "Dreaded spawn of the ancient monster Ungoliant, trying to spread their evil across the forest lands. Wretched beasts. They're starting to become bolder with the rise of the Shadow to the South. But right now they are not the question here. The question here is you. Your Monitamon friends tell me that you're lost, Lillymon."

"Yes. Very lost," Lillymon nodded. "So lost that we're not even sure which world we are in."

"How can you possibly not know that?" Fion asked in bemusement. "Is this not the same world that you have always lived in? Where do you beings come from and what are you so called?"

"Um… well, we come from the Digital World. Is this it?" Lillymon asked hopefully.

Tauriel shook her head. "We do not know of such a place. This world is known as Eä and has been ever since the Ainur first gave it form. We do not know of any other. And this land in particular is Mirkwood, in Middle Earth."

"So it's not the Human World either," Lillymon sighed. "Oh no. Now what are we supposed to do? How can we possibly get back home?"

"Are we going to be lost forever?" E-Monitamon-2 asked.

"What happened to all the others?" E-Monitamon-3 questioned.

"I really don't know," Lillymon replied sadly.

"You are saying that you are not from Eä itself?" Tauriel asked, eyes wide.

"I've never heard of it so I assume we must be," Lillymon nodded. "And we are Digimon. We come from the Digital World. We have never heard of your kind before. Elves did you say it was?"

"I did," Tauriel nodded. "I am Tauriel, Captain of the Guard of Mirkwood and the Court of King Thranduil."

"I'm Lillymon. And you've already met the Monitamon here."

"Hello," all three of them chorused, displaying their happy face symbols and bemusing a lot of the Elves around them.

Tauriel shook her head. "I really… don't know how to react to this news. I am now positive that you are not servants of evil but all the same… your story and claims are wild beyond imagining. And yet never have we seen anything like before. Now two-legged being of your stature in Middle Earth that we know of has wings. And thought you seem to be akin to a plant, you are clearly not an Ent."

"I don't know what that is either," Lillymon said.

"Wait one second," Fion voiced. "Are you saying that all four of you are Digimon? Is that some sort of team name or are you saying that is the name of your species?"

"Species, yes," Lillymon nodded. "We might look different but we are the same species. We just come in many different types. I am a Lillymon and they're Monitamon. But you are all Elves, yes. And yet you all look quite similar except for a few differences like hair colour. You're like humans in that respect. They live in another universe opposite ours but this is apparently not that word either."

"You are hard to fathom, Lillymon," Tauriel said, with a chuckle. "But whatever the case if you are lost then it would be our pleasure to offer you sanctuary as long as you have no ill will towards our people, which I do not believe you do."

"Really?" Lillymon's face lit up and the Monitamon's screens did the same. "You would do that?"

"Oh yes," nodded Tauriel. "What else could we do? Leave you to wander around in the woods and potentially run into more Spiders. They are growing in number and spreading across the length of the forest, but in the Kingdom you would be safe from them."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Lillymon cried, buzzing into the air and grabbing the surprised Tauriel in a hug around her neck. "We're in your debt and we won't forget this, I promise."

"No worries," Tauriel laughed. "And besides, I feel King Thranduil will be most interested to meet you. You can tell me all about yourselves and your race as we go. We were about the return anyway now that our scouting mission is done. It make take us a day to get there at a fast pace but you're welcome to stay with us."

"Thank you again," Lillymon beamed as she backed away. "But, there could be other Digimon somewhere around here. I'm not sure if we were the only Digimon that was transported into this world or not but I don't think we were. If you see anything strange, can you please not shoot it until you're sure it's not a Digimon. Our friends come in all kinds of shapes and sizes."

"Agreed," Tauriel nodded. "And I look forward to hearing more about you and your friends. As well as what exactly you just did to those Spiders with your hands. Come Elves. We depart for the Kingdom immediately."

The Elves nodded wordlessly and stowed their arrows, heading over to the Spider corpses nearby to retrieve what arrows they could reuse at a later date. Lillymon sighed. It had not exactly been the best introduction to this new world but now it seemed that things were looking up.

Still, she wished Shoutmon was here.

But at the same time, her capture by the Spiders and her intense fear and terror while during their clutches had assured her of one thing inside her own mind. She was no more positive than ever that she was not worthy of being Shoutmon's mate. She was more sure than ever that she was not worthy of being the Digimon Queen.

* * *

Okay, well many of you may know that I am taking a slight risk with this chapter. Tauriel the Elf is not an invention of mine. She is an OC Elf that has been created for the Hobbit films by Peter Jackson. Since she did not appear in the books we do not know what her story or her fate will be in those films, so she may actually die sixty years before the events of this story come to pass. If that happens in the later Hobbit films I will double back to this chapter and replace her name with that of an Elf that _will_ be of my own making. But for now, she is here and unless she dies in the films, she is here to stay.

Still, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and you can all rest easy now in the knowledge that Lillymon will be fine and definitely not eaten by the Spiders. I enjoyed writing the scenes against the Spiders immensely, and I look forward to writing more LOTR fight scenes in the future.

* * *

Next time…

Dracomon and Cyberdramon have been roaming the snow-filled mountains of the North since they arrived, finding nothing but more snow-filled mountains as they went. But now they're about to stumble across what they were looking for. Here be dragons.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 23 : The Withered Heath**


	23. The Withered Heath

Badda bing badda boom – I am on schedule again at last! Nice! Hehe. Just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing both of these stories and your reviews are spurring me on more than ever. Anyway, this is another mostly action-less chapter but it is important nonetheless and sets a large storyline for the future in motion. I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Hehehehehe.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 23:- The Withered Heath**

* * *

Dracomon shivered.

He had every right to as well. Spending one night in a freezing cold mountain landscape was difficult enough. Spending _two_ nights in a freezing cold mountain landscape was much harder to cope with, even for a little dragon like him. Everywhere he looked there was snow, snow and more snow, piled high up from the top to bottom of every rising peak and summit like a giant shroud of white dotted with the occasional grey lump of uncovered rock. And that had been pretty much all he had had to look at over the last day.

He shivered again. His own internal fire was beginning to run low and he was getting hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat in this bleak landscape since he'd got here. There wasn't exactly much on offer. There were no trees that gave berries or fruits or nuts anywhere. What he wouldn't give for a good DigiNoir tree right now. He could do with a boost of energy.

That internal fire of his had kept him relatively warm despite the cold conditions throughout his whole time here, but now it's effect was beginning to get a little negligible, so all he could really do at this point was shiver, so that was what he did.

He had spent the two nights that they had been here on a boulder that he diligently wiped the snow off before he had lain on it, and that had helped to an extent – he was sure that if he tried to curl up in the snow itself he would die of the cold at some point during the night. And yet both times when he had woken up there had been a fresh layer of thin snow covering both his boulder _and_ him.

He wished he was stronger. More durable. Long ago he had come to terms with the fact that he was not a very powerful Digimon in terms of strength and battle prowess, not like Shoutmon or Greymon or the other members of his group of friends. But now in conditions like this he did wish that he were, for they would probably be handling the cold a lot better than he was right now.

Like his silent companion Cyberdramon was.

Dracomon looked up at him now as he wiped the snow from his body and breathed a clump of fire from his mouth into the snow in front of him in an attempt to warm himself up. Of the former members of Blue Flare, Cyberdramon was the one that Dracomon knew the least about. He was probably the one that _all_ the others knew least about, and after spending this extended period of time in his company, Dracomon could easily understand why.

Cyberdamon barely reacted to anything. Dracomon had never before seen him eat – he could not tell if Cyberdramon even could eat considering he had no visible facial features of any kind beyond his multiple round and totally light purple eyes. That face had absolutely no way of changing expression because of this and on top of that Cyberdramon's body language hardly ever changed, so Dracomon could never tell just by looking at him, like now, whether he was happy or angry or frustrated or sad or worried, or anything even remotely like that.

And the fact that Cyberdramon never _said_ anything either didn't help very much in that respect. He barely even made noises unless he was in a battle situation, and most of those noises were usually growls.

Now, he just stood there above Dracomon, his two headed spear in one hand and held upright, one point buried in the snow and the other sticking straight up into the air. His posture was straight, his tail held aloft out behind him, his other arm at his side and his face staring out towards the horizon. He was in the exact same position that he had been in when Dracomon had nodded off the previous night. Had he budged an inch during that time? Did Cyberdramon even need sleep?

Dracomon wondered if he ever got bored with just standing there like he did. But somehow that didn't sound right.

Nevertheless, if you didn't count the time when every single member of the group had been DigiXrosed together to join with Shoutmon X7, Cyberdramon was the only Digimon that Dracomon had ever been DigiXrosed with. Dracomon had been a bit more preoccupied with fighting an army at the time to really take a look into Cyberdramon's heart, but now he wished he had. It would be nice to know a little more about Cyberdramon, but every time someone asked, they were met with a wall of silence and a blank stare, if that.

Though Dracomon was grateful for his company now. His presence was reassuring. Even though Cyberdramon took no active measures to comfort Dracomon, the way he stood like a sentry all the time, never wavering in his watch and never breaking his concentration, a complete mask of calm despite the fact they had been dumped in a strange environment with no friends to back them up, soothed Dracomon's nerves a little. If Cyberdramon had not been there, he probably would have started panicking by this point really.

Dracomon looked back down. The molten fire he had set in the snow was helping to warm him up some, but it wasn't really enough to satisfy him. Still, at least he was keeping the feeling in all his fingers and toes, even if it was still absolutely freezing around here.

"Um," he ventured, looking back up. "Morning Cyberdramon."

Cyberdramon said nothing, but did look down at him impassively.

"Have you been there all night like that?" Dracomon asked.

Cyberdramon said nothing.

"I'll… er… take that as a yes," Dracomon said, looking around at the snow around Cyberdramon and noticing the way it had settled on his shoulders and head and piled up around his feet with no extra depressions that indicated Cyberdramon had budged an inch. "So… shouldn't we get going? Maybe today we'll have better luck and actually be able to find someone."

Cyberdramon said nothing. Instead, he wordlessly knelt down and reached out with one bulky armoured hand, the fingers coming out of it all nothing but long sickle-like claws. Dracomon looked at them uneasily.

Yesterday, Dracomon had initially tried walking through the thick snow drifts himself, forcing himself on through the mountainous landscapes and trying to put some distance between them and the place that they had landed in. Cyberdramon had helped sometimes, shovelling snow out of the way with his spear to give Dracomon an easier time of it, but after a time it had become apparent that Dracomon was making little headway and to top it off the snow was absolutely freezing.

That had been when Cyberdramon had wordlessly reached down and grabbed him in his long claws in his other hand and then leapt into the air, flying through the high winds that produced whistling noises as they passed through the holes in his wings, and carrying Dracomon with him.

Why Dracomon had not thought of this before he didn't know, and cursed himself for an idiot who wasn't thinking properly in the face of this crisis. Perhaps Cyberdramon had been thinking that going by air was the better option all along, but had simply not said anything because… that was what he did.

They had made much more progress after that but they still had yet to find anything that looked even remotely like a change in landscape or their friends.

Perhaps today would bring better fortune.

This time, Dracomon stepped carefully into Cyberdramon large hand, sitting in it as comfortably as he could manage considering the sharp claws which stuck up all around him like some kind of cage. He was small enough to fit quite easily into Cyberdramon's hand as long as feet and tail dangled over the edge and he carefully gripped a couple of the claws to try and make sure he could stay balanced there as Cyberdramon stood back up and, wordlessly, launched himself into the air, turning in the wind and carrying on in the same direction they had been travelling in yesterday.

They knew this direction to be east from the faint light of the Sun that could be seen rising upwards, but the snow and the clouds around them meant that while there was plenty of sunlight, it was difficult to work out where it was coming from.

And so, onwards Cyberdramon flew into the morning, with his little passenger resting in one hand.

* * *

As they flew, Dracomon felt his mind wandering backwards a little. Back to the first moments when they had realised that he had realised that he had unexplainably landed in a strange place and Cyberdramon had flown in to land beside him. He remembered the boulder-shattering roar that had echoed through the mountains shortly after that, as well as the distant shape in the sky that they had seen flying overhead, colossal wingbeats fluctuating the air so much they could practically feel it even on the ground.

He was remembering the Dragon that they had seen on their first day here.

The Dragon that was not a Digimon – that fact they had been able to sense.

The Dragon that was, in fact, a dragon-Dragon.

He remembered something that Kiriha had told him once during some of the brief periods of downtime they'd had against the Bagra Army after the two of them had met up. According to him, in their world, Dragons that were not Digimon were mythical creatures that a lot of people didn't believe to be real. Although there were people out there that did believe Dragons existed, the ones that didn't were convinced that they were made up many years ago, possibly by people recounting an adventure or something and making up this fearsome creature to make it sound like they did something heroic.

Dracomon sometimes wondered if the Digital World had had any influence on this. After all, the Digital World had existed a lot longer than the Human World had, so it was possible that any dragon that had been in the Human World was in fact a Dragon Digimon that had somehow fallen across the barrier in ancient human times, although since apparently stories of Dragons existed long before humans started gaining Digital technology that narrowed the boundary between the worlds Dracomon doubted the validity of that theory.

But now everything had been turned on its head. He had seen what could only be some kind of Dragon in the distance. One that had definitely not been a Digimon. Unless there was another giant winged reptile that Dracomon had never heard of before, which admittedly was a possibility, there was the creature that the other humans had long believed to be a myth.

Dracomon really didn't know what to make of this. Until Kiriha came along he'd never even heard of a Dragon that wasn't a Digimon, but was known by the name of Dragon only.

And now it seemed that he had seen one.

That said, despite the fact they had been going for some time now, Dracomon had seen or heard not further signs of that Dragon, or indeed any other Dragons in the area. He had been hoping that he might run into it again – maybe he could ask it a few questions or something about where they were.

But so far, nothing.

So they just kept moving on through the mountains, battling the elements as best they could. Dracomon curled himself up in Cyberdramon's hand as much as possible, while if Cyberdramon himself was at all effected by the cold he didn't show in any way. Not even an occasional shiver. He was apathetic to it as he was to everything else, apparently.

* * *

"Maybe we should try heading in another direction!" Dracomon suggested after an hour or so of steady flying. "See if we can find anything else."

Cyberdramon didn't respond, and Dracomon wondered whether he had even heard what he had just said. He shook himself, and looked down at the continuous carpet of snow beneath them, wondering if things would get better any time soon.

Then, something registered in the corner of his eye and he turned his head. He blinked and then patted Cyberdramon's hand quickly with his own. "Hey, hey! Look down there! There's smoke coming from down there. Can you smell it?"

This time Cyberdramon reacted and drew to a halt, hovering in the air without any physical effort and looking down in the direction Dracomon was indicating. And he was right. Down below was a thin plume of smoke rising slowly into the air. And it appeared to be originating from a large opening in the side of the mountain below, which they might have missed if the smoke had not been present. A cave of some kind… and a big one too.

"If there's smoke coming from a cave then that's got to mean that there's something inside it," Dracomon pointed out. "Maybe some people with a campfire or… or maybe… something else. Do you think we should check it out?"

Cyberdramon answered by descending in the direction of the smoke automatically, Dracomon gripping tightly as he dared to the sharp claws as they moved downwards. As they drew closer they could see just how cavernous the hole in the mountainside was – it was huge. If there had been a second Cyberdramon standing on the shoulders of the first, it would probably still have been able to fit through the gap, and Cyberdramon was already incredibly tall. Cyberdramon was one of the largest single Digimon in the entire group, only exceeded in size by Deckerdramon – Kiriha had not even come up to his knee and Dracomon was barely taller than his ankle.

Cyberdramon landed in front of the cavernous mouth with only a light thud in the snow, bending down automatically to allow Dracomon to hop off his hand and land on the ground, the cold forgotten as he stared up at the ginormous jagged entrance to the cave. The entrance was almost as wide as it was tall and the smoke billowing slowly out of it was doing so in a thin but continuous stream.

And now that they had landed, Dracomon could hear a slow but distinct sound emanating from within.

It was a low, thrumming and rumbling sound that was reminiscent of something very large breathing in and out slowly.

"Um," Dracomon muttered, looking up to Cyberdramon for guidance. "What should we do now?"

Cyberdramon looked down at him blankly, and it was at times like this that Dracomon sometimes wondered if Cyberdramon even spoke the same language as the rest of the group, though he was pretty sure he did, whenever he actually did speak.

But it seemed obvious that Cyberdramon was not planning on doing anything, so Dracomon cleared his throat and nervously called out, "Hello?" into the cavern.

Other than the slight echoes that were caused by his shout there was no change in anything. The heavy breathing continued at its own pace and Dracomon saw no movement coming from within. Dracomon hesitated, wondering if he should go inside, but then decided against it and tried again, calling out "Hello!" louder this time.

The breathing noise faltered for a moment, and Dracomon heard a snort come from the darkness, followed by a low rumbling sound which was loud enough to shake a few bits of rock loose from the walls of the cave entrance and cause some snow hanging from above to collapse downwards and almost bury Dracomon beneath it.

"Er…" Dracomon said. "Sorry to disturb you, whoever's in there but… um… we're lost and… would you be able to help us?"

The breathing sound had stopped by now, and Dracomon was met with dead silence for a couple of seconds. Then there was the sound of heavy sniffing, as if something very, very large was catching their scent in its nostrils. Dracomon swallowed slightly, drawing closer to Cyberdramon almost instinctively.

And then a voice, a booming voice that almost made Dracomon stepped backwards gain, emanated from within the cave.

"Peculiar," the voice said. "What a very peculiar scent indeed. Your smell is that of a young drake, but at the same time, of something new. Something I have never scented before. How very curious."

"Thank you," Dracomon said, because he wasn't sure what else he should say at this point.

"Strangers, you are," the voice went on, and Dracomon saw something shift in the darkness – something _big_. "Newcomers to this realm. You are the same, and yet not the same, as I. How very puzzling. But I do enjoy a good puzzle. I believe this may merit further investigation."

"Look, sorry if we disturbed you," Dracomon tried again, right at the point a fierce orange glow appeared within the cave and suddenly a huge gout of flame surged out of the darkness towards them. Dracomon yelled and covered himself and Cyberdramon acted in the blink of an eye, slamming his enormous foot in front of Dracomon like a shield and holding his spear diagonally before him, growling sharply as the flame washed over him and split around him, the tongues blazing angrily over him like a miniature inferno. Dracomon yelled as he flattened himself into the snow, covering his head. He might be a dragon but fire such as this would still be painful even to him.

Moments after it began the flame died away, leaving Cyberdramon still standing, blackened and slightly charred but otherwise none the worse for wear, protected from harm by his thick armour. He snarled and the voice from within the cave chuckled.

"Amusing," he said. "Yes, you are definitely Dragon kin, but bizarre in the extreme. Let's have a good look at you then, shall we?"

As Dracomon peered around Cyberdramon's legs he gasped at the shape which emerged out of the darkness, forcing Cyberdramon to step back to allow it some space. It was definitely a Dragon and it was _big_. Taller even than Cyberdramon and with a body as bulky as Deckerdramon's it emerged from the darkness like a giant shadow. It was covered in thick copper scales that ran across near its entire length. Its head was long and pointed, with a thick snout and long jaw, slightly open to reveal row upon row of blade-like teeth, and it eyes were pure golden, fixed on Cyberdramon with unwavering focus. Each leg it placed on the ground was as thick as a tree-trunk and adorned with several enormous claws. Huge spikes jutted out from the back of its head and ran down its armoured back and sprouting from either shoulder were a pair of enormous wings that unfolded and stretched outwards, showing their bat-like structure and spreading out so far that the tips could have easily touched either side of the cave entrance.

And it was not even completely out of the cave yet.

Dracomon quivered slightly as he stared around Cyberdramon's thick leg at the huge Dragon. If he would have to guesstimate he would say that this guy was as large as the Fanglongmon that had been a servant of Dorbickmon back in the time the Bagra Army ruled, and that guy had been very large indeed.

And the heat! Dracomon could feel an intense heat emanating from the body of the Dragon like an ever-present aura, while steam occasionally puffed out of its nostrils as if there was a boiling cauldron of lava inside its stomach that was constantly threatening to spill over.

Dracomon was in awe. And at the same time, he was afraid. He had not felt anything like this since he had last stood in the presence of the mighty Death General Dorbickmon or his trusted lieutenant Fanglongmon. Dorbickmon had always scared the hell out of little Dracomon, for he had always known that if Dorbickmon decided that he was expendable then there was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent him from crushing the life out of him in an instant flat.

And this new Dragon reminded him so much of the old dragons that used to be rulers of his homeland that Dracomon felt himself trembling a little bit. And this time not with the cold, for the heat that the dragons was giving off was already melting the snow all around them as if someone had set it to fast-motion.

The Dragon itself was eyeballing Cyberdramon, head cocked to the side almost comically, but Dracomon was not laughing. It's golden eye were like headlights, glowing out of its head and Dracomon could swear he saw a faint orange light reflecting off Cyberdramon's armour anywhere the Dragon looked.

"Interesting," it said, revealing the glinting sword-like teeth in his mouth with most every syllable he spoke. "And what might you be? You are no Dragon, and yet you have the smell and some slight resemblance to our kind. How very intriguing. Has someone decided to attempt creating some kind of mockery of my race? Such a notion is… displeasing to me."

Cyberdramon just growled, pulling his spear closer to him and his face not changing in the slightest, his eyes not even narrowing. Could Cyberdramon's eyes narrow? It was a mystery.

"Oh do please regale me with some form of reply," the Dragon snorted, blowing steam from his nose into Cyberdramon's unflinching face. "Otherwise I may have to assume to worst straight away. And I would be so disappointed to have to destroy you before I could find out more."

Cyberdramon tensed his muscles, his tail lashing towards the ground in preparation for an incoming attack. Dracomon could see that things were not going well and he honestly would not be able to predict who would win if these two were to clash in a full-on confrontation.

He swallowed. He remembered what Shoutmon had once said about him, how he had a stronger heart that most because of how he had resisted Dorbickmon even though he had no chance of winning against him and that allowed him to pluck his courage back up and step around Cyberdramon's foot and say, "Um… he doesn't really speak. Please don't hold it against him. Sometimes he can be a bit of a mystery even to his friends. Often actually."

The Dragon's head tilted downwards and Dracomon felt himself involuntarily freezing up as the glowing orbs fixed on him. He felt exactly like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Is that so?" the Dragon said. "And do you speak for him, small one?"

"Well… not normally," Dracomon said. "But since there's nobody else here then… I suppose I should."

"You are the young drake that I smelled before, and the one that hailed me," the Dragon noted. "That is somewhat a relief – the voice that I heard would have been odd indeed had it belonged to your companion."

"Well… that's alright. Sorry we disturbed you. But… why did you breathe fire at us? We only wanted to talk."

The Dragon chuckled. "The number of times that young drakes such as yourselves have come to my cave wishing to steal the fortune that I have amassed over the years has taught me to greet all unexpected visitors with a warning shot. Yet you refused to back down, and thus my interest was peaked."

"Fortune?" Dracomon asked. "You mean treasure?"

"You sound interested," the Dragon said warningly.

"Oh no, not at all. Not at all," Dracomon said quickly. "I just… never mind… erm…" he struggled to find the words, but the gaze of the Dragon on him was riveting and he felt himself struggling under their piercing intensity.

"You amuse me," the Dragon said. "You too are different to all that I know. Never have I seen a young drake such as yourself, with your oddly shaped head projections and your two-legged stance. Neither have I seen any like your older companion. Come now, tell me of yourselves. Who comes to pay a visit to Chrysophylax?"

"Is that your name?" Dracomon asked.

"Can you not figure that out for yourself?" the Dragon asked. "You can be slow on the uptake it seems."

"Sorry," Dracomon said. "Erm… I'm Dracomon and this is Cyberdramon."

"Interesting titles," Chrysophylax mused. "But they are names that mean little to me. Tell me more."

"Well… I can promise you that we are dragons," Dracomon burbled quickly. "The both of us. It's just that we're also called Digimon and… I don't think that we're from around here. I don't exactly how we got here but we found ourselves in the mountains around here somehow and we've been wandering for two nights in search of someone who can tell us what's going on and where we are."

Chrysophylax stood imperious and aloof, staring down at Dracomon silently, and Dracomon felt himself continuing to talk even though he knew that he should probably shut up by this point.

"I think that we might come from an entirely different universe, but I'm not sure how we got here in this one if we did. In our universe there are lots of dragons, you see, but all of those dragons are also Digimon. You're the first Dragon that I've ever met who isn't a Digimon. In fact the King where I come from is a Dragon Digimon as well and we're both part of his army, but we've been separated from him and we don't know where he or any of the others are now or if they're in this universe or anything like that and… and…"

He trailed off, feeling embarrassed that he'd just waffled out everything like that while the Dragon had just stared at him, as if it had been using some kind of strange magic to coax the words out of him without even trying.

"Interesting," Chrysophylax said when it was clear Dracomon had finished his speech. "Those are some fanciful claims of yours, young Dracomon. And most of which make very little sense at all. Yet you do smell of Dragon, and your claim to be a Dragon of another species does make some form of sense, for you also smell of something else that I do not recognise. But to claim you are from another universe. That is a capricious assertion. Certainly one that no visitor or prey of mine has ever attempted to give before."

"Well, it's true," Dracomon said, a bit feebly.

"Perhaps. But I find the idea improbable. Tell me more about this other world from which you come. You claim that it is ruled by one of your kind of Dragons. That has surely caught my attention."

"Well yes, his name is Shoutmon. King Shoutmon, and he's a just and fair ruler to all inhabitants of the Digital World where we come from…"

Chrysophylax suddenly laughed out loud, an overwhelming cacophonous rumbling roar of a laugh that forced Dracomon to place his claws over his ears and shook more snow loose from the mountain above them, which fell in streams onto the Great Dragons back, though he ignored it.

"A just and fair Dragon ruler!" Chrysophylax bellowed with mirth. "Oh, if you were any ordinary looking drake making such claims then I would know that you are lying. How thoroughly droll."

"What do you mean?" Dracomon asked, a little miffed but mostly confused.

"I almost believe your word now," the Dragon stopped laughing with what appeared to be some effort. "You clearly know little of me or my kind if such a thing puzzles you. That or you are hopelessly naïve."

"I don't really follow," Dracomon muttered.

"Well, O Dracomon of the other universe," Chrysophylax chuckled. "It would appear that you have much to learn. And you fascinate me. I think that I will not eat you. It may be much more entertaining to keep you around just to hear more of your absurd tales and words. Aye, that is what I will do. And what of your larger friend, Cyberdramon was it not? Have you nothing to add to the discussion?"

Cyberdramon growled a little, but still said nothing, resulting in more chuckling from Chrysophylax.

"Seems like you were right again. No Dragon of this world would allow such a puny looking specimen of a drake to do all his talking for him."

"Puny?" Dracomon repeated, feeling a little hurt but not necessarily surprised. He was feeling a little uncomfortable with this current conversation, and that feeling was increasing a little more as time went on.

Chrysophylax snorted another breath of steam, eliciting another slight growl from Cyberdramon as it wafted into his face, but then said, "You are both perplexities. But I find you entertaining ones nonetheless. Perhaps I should introduce you to the others of my brethren. Yes indeed, some of them might be quite interested to meet you in turn."

"The rest of your brethren?" Dracomon asked. "So there are more Dragons around here?"

"There are more Dragons in these parts than you are likely to find in any other part of this world," Chrysophylax replied. "It is not often that I go and socialise with others of my kind but I believe that your presence calls for it. Yes, do say you will come with me. I would love to show you off to the others and see if they come to the same conclusion as I when they hear you tale of preposterousness."

"You don't need to make it sound like that," Dracomon muttered, a little offended.

Chrysophylax chuckled. "Well, I will say this for you – you must have some guts in that little body if you would speak out against an adult Fire-drake such as myself in that manner. Or perhaps you would feel a little less comfortable outside the shadow of your hulking, silent bodyguard. Well, regardless, I feel like doing a little flying, and if you wish to remain lost in these mountains, I suggest you follow me. There are others out there who are, less open to a good story than I."

He stepped further out of the cave, spreading is wings out again and forcing Cyberdramon to step backwards to get out of his way. His huge tail snaked out of the darkness of the cave behind him as he stretched to his full wingspan, his copper scales gleaming healthily in the faint light. And without another word he sprang off the ledge in front of his cave in the mountainside, throwing his wings down to haul his enormous body into the air.

Dracomon stared after him, watching as he blew a long stream of fire from his jaws and then flew through it, adding a slight layer of ash to his face and shoulders as he flew onwards. He turned up to look at Cyberdramon as if hoping for some kind of guidance, but there was nothing forthcoming as usual.

"I… guess we should follow him," Dracomon said, after a moment. "We don't really have a lot of options besides that at the moment. Not ones I like the sound of anyway."

Cyberdramon grunted in acknowledgement, scooping Dracomon up between his claws again and springing into the air, spear gripped tightly in one hand as he flew after Chrysophylax. The mighty dragon, larger than Cyberdramon by a fair amount in the air, looked back at him, allowing the dragon Digimon to catch up.

"You get stranger with everything I know about you," he said over the thrum of his own wingbeats, which were so jarring from below that Dracomon felt that all his teeth were coming loose under their impact. "You do not even flap your wings to get yourself aloft and yet you fly with seemingly no effort. I am half convinced now that you are some kind of magical illusion on my eyes."

"No, we're quite real," Dracomon said.

Chrysophylax chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure. I'm going to have great fun learning more about you."

* * *

The Dragon led the way, with Cyberdramon following on behind him, still heading east but taking a more southerly direction than the two Digimon had initially been going in. Dracomon kept a wary eye on Chrysophylax. He wasn't sure if he trusted the big dragon yet or not, he seemed to switch between having a friendly tone and being rather menacing, and Dracomon couldn't put a number on which one he really was.

The flight after that was not a very long one – it only took about twenty minutes to reach their destination, or at least the destination that Chrysophylax had had in mind when he left. If Dracomon and Cyberdramon had continued on their previous course they would probably have bypassed it completely, but when Dracomon saw it he could not help but gasp.

They were flying high enough to match the peaks of some of the tallest mountains in the long chain, but suddenly before them there was no one mountain chain, but two. The mountain chain split in half like a giant glacier running down two separate routes, with one line of mountains moving out northwards and continuing east, while the other one moved out southwards and then also continued east, creating a single enormous valley right between the two mountain chains.

"I bid you, strange Dragon Digimon, welcome," snorted Chrysophylax. "To the breeding ground of Middle Earth's Dragons, nestled between the two branches of the Grey Mountains. According to most of Middle Earth's maps this place is known as the Withered Heath, and if you're looking for Dragons, this is where you need to be."

And he was right. Dracomon could see a large number of Dragons down there, some large winged ones flapping their way through the sky, while others dotted the landscape at various points. As Chrysophylax flew down and the two Digimon followed, they could make out more details of the inhabitants of the Heath.

There were a couple of very large winged Dragons slamming into one another in mid-air and breathing fire at one another in an enormous clash of the titans, slamming their tails into one another and exhaling flames from their gaping maws down one another's throats. There were other winged dragons reclined on piles of boulders and stepping across the snowy landscape, some of blowing some kind of mist or smoke from out of their nose.

Some of the Dragons there didn't have wings, though that seemed to be some of the only different features they had in comparison to those with wings – they were still just as large and impressive in every other detail.

And Dracomon was convinced that at one point he saw something that seemed to be a dragon with neither legs nor wings, but before he could get a better look at it, it was gone from sight, possibly disappearing beneath the ground.

But nestled on piles of boulders in various locations were some Dragons that were standing protectively over what appeared to be clutches of Eggs – mother dragons that would glare fiercely at anyone who even got close to them and would occasionally lower their heads to breath fire over their brood as if this was helpful to them, which it probably was.

And finally, there were the little dragons – the ones that Dracomon assumed were the 'young drakes' that Chrysophylax kept mentioning before. Whereas many of the other dragons, winged and wingless, came with a variety of colours, most of these drakes were a similar colour of flaming orange and none of them had wings, which meant they were all the offspring of a wingless Dragon or their wings would come out once they reached a certain age. They also didn't appear to have armoured scales, while all the adults did, so they too probably filled in later in life and took on the various different colours that the other Dragons possessed.

Chrysophylax announced his presence with a roar, and a number of the Dragons turned to roar back at him, the sound reverberating around the Heath like a concussive blast and almost threw Dracomon for a loop. But when the other Dragons looked up and saw the two Digimon that were flying along beside Chrysophylax, they stopped whatever it was they had been doing and paid more attention – even the two fighting Dragons ceased their activity and moved in closer for a better view.

Now Dracomon was much more afraid. Under the scrutiny of so many Dragons made him feel once again like the helpless little Digimon he had been back when he had tried resisting Dorbickmon's will. Back then he had been resisting Dorbickmon's regime of hurting the other local Digimon and it had taken him some time to work up the courage to openly do this. Now he was a strange in their turf, and for some reason that was almost scarier.

Cyberdramon growled lightly, which might have been his way of attempting to reassure Dracomon, but even if it wasn't it did work that way somewhat. Dracomon was glad that Cyberdramon was here, but he did not know how much Cyberdramon would be able to do if all these Dragons suddenly decided it was time for lunch.

Chrysophylax pulled in to land in the middle of the densest group of Dragons, and the other airborne Dragons followed his example. Chrysophylax was slightly bigger than most of the others and they seemed to hold a respect for him. But as Dracomon and Cyberdramon pulled in to land, the former couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. There were Dragons on all sides now, most of them the same size as Cyberdramon, some slightly smaller or slightly bigger, and all of them eyeing them warily and with interest.

"Look what I found," Chrysophylax chuckled, folding in his massive wings and addressing the assembled giant reptiles.

"What strange abominations are these?" said a nearby grey scaled Dragon. "What beings are these that dare to mock our shape?"

"Apparently they are Dragons indeed," Chrysophylax chuckled to the crowd, turning around so that he was also facing the two Digimon. "Or so they say. Or rather, so the little one says. The larger one has done nothing but growl ever since we began our exchange of words."

"That is nonsense, surely," a bronze Dragon growled. "No Dragon walks on two legs alone. Four or none, that is the way of our kind. Nor do we carry such weapons in our hands, nor do we have four wings. Nor such emaciated looking ones at that."

Cyberdramon growled at the speaker warningly and Chrysophylax laughed again. "Listen well to him, for that is the only thing that I have heard him say thus far."

"Um…" Dracomon piped up, feeling a little embarrassed at addressing such a throng while perched on Cyberdramon's hand. "Like I told him before, we really are Dragons. But well… I guess you could say we are a different kind of Dragon to all of you."

"So I can believe," Chrysophylax said. "Such wild and whimsical anecdotes they have to tell about themselves. I have not laughed so much in many years, I can tell you that."

"If you are Dragon of a different sort then what Dragon are you?" a Silver wingless Dragon stomped forwards and glared at them. "Are you a Fire-drake, such as I? Or are you a Cold-Drake instead."

"Um… what's the difference?" Dracomon asked meekly.

"They claim to be Dragons and yet they do not know the difference between us?" the Silver Dragon snorted. "They do not know that the Cold-Drake is the Dragon that does not breathe fire?"

"Um… well, if that's what the difference is then I suppose you could say that I am a Fire-Drake," Dracomon volunteered. "And he is a Cold-Drake," he nodded to Cyberdramon. "He doesn't breathe fire but I do."

"You have heard little of what they have to say yet," Chrysophylax assured the crowd. "I shall return momentarily. His lordship must hear of this."

"His lordship?" blinked Dracomon, but Chrysophylax made no further answer as he turned and made his way off, a couple of the other Dragons moving aside to let him through before they drew the circle closer around the two strangers. Cyberdramon snarled warningly as the drew closer, readying his spear for any potential attack, but Dracomon quickly patted his arm and hissed, "No, don't. They already don't trust us very much. If you act aggressive then they might take you up on a challenge."

Cyberdramon made no response, though he relaxed a little, but not by much. The Dragons around them had fallen silent, scrutinising the two of them – Dracomon noticed that every one of them had the same glowing golden eyes that Chrysophylax had and if he had felt like a deer in the headlights under the gaze of one Dragon, now he felt like a criminal with the lights of many helicopters shining on him from above.

"Put me down," he said, feeling as if they were judging him for sitting on his companion. Wordlessly, Cyberdramon knelt down and allowed him to hop onto the ground. There was considerably less snow here than there had been in the mountains and Dracomon instead placed his feet onto hard, ash-covered ground.

The Dragons still said nothing more to either of them as Cyberdramon straightened up again, and now Dracomon was getting a little edgy. It was as if they were waiting for something. Or perhaps each of them were trying to figure them out wordlessly on their own. In reality it was a mix of both. Dragons loved puzzles and mysteries and they could happily spend hours, even days, trying to riddle something out. And right now the presence of these two Dragons that were not Dragons but still claimed to be Dragons was as puzzling as anything.

That was when Dracomon saw several of the smaller Dragons – the young Drakes, approaching him from around the legs of the adults. He had to force himself not to take an alarmed step backwards at the sight of them. They came in varying heights, but they were all larger than Dracomon himself. The smallest of them was probably twice as tall as him. The largest of them was probably twice as big as someone like Dorulumon.

Dracomon shifted from foot to foot as the Drakes approached him. While the adult Dragons continued their silent vigil, the smaller ones evidently had no trouble speaking their mind.

"This guy is tiny, isn't he?" one of the larger ones laughed. "It's like some sort of stunted runt or something like that. And yet it calls itself a fire Drake. It's almost funny. Scratch that, it is funny."

"I don't think I've ever seen such a little dragon," snorted another one. "Even hatchlings that broke out of their shells a mere few hours previously are larger than this one."

"I wonder how big he'll be when he's fully grown," another sniggered. "Probably about the size of the biggest of us right now. If that. It's laughable that such a tiny Dragon could even exist."

"We still don't really know if it is a Dragon," the first one stated. "For all we know this could be some mere lizard that we've never come across before lying that it's a Dragon to spare itself from being eaten."

"Hah! Eaten? One chomp and that guy would be gone and wouldn't even make a proper mouthful to a real Dragon."

The words stung Dracomon a little bit, though he was used to taunts like this. Dorbickmon's forces had had nothing but contempt for him even when he had run with their forces – every one of them had been bigger than him back then. By quite some distance. A greater distance than any of these Drakes in most cases.

But Dracomon tried to put on a more determined face and said, "I may be little, and not very powerful, but my heart is strong. I am a member of Xros Heart after all. It's not all about brute force with us. I have my own strength."

"Ooh, listen to him," the first Drake laughed. "He's got a big opinion of himself despite his diminutive stature. He's bolder than he looks."

"It'll take more than a few fancy phrases from a tiny two-legged lizard to convince us," another Drake said.

"Look at its back though, it does have wings already," another pointed out.

"Yeah, tiny, undersized wings," countered another. "I would be surprised if they were even capable of lifting it off the ground. But if it does have wings and we don't, does that mean that it's already a fully-developed Dragon. Any winged Dragon only gets their wings in adolescence after all."

There was a chorus of laughter from the taunting Drakes and Dracomon felt himself colouring a little.

"Say what you will," he said, trying to make himself heard over the chuckling. "But your words cannot hurt me. I have proven my strength in the past and if I need to then I will prove it again."

"Oh really?" one of the Drakes hissed, lowering its head and its tail lashing out behind it, it's crest of horns around its head making it look like some kind of strange dinosaur. "Then why don't you prove it right now, small fry?"

Dracomon yelped as it breathed a stream of fire from its jaws at him, rolling aside as the jet of flame washed right past. The Drake leapt at him straight afterwards and Dracomon desperately hurled himself to one side again as the creature's jaws snapped shut on the space where he had been a split second before.

"Come on, feeble one," the Drake crowed. "You don't seem to fight as bravely as you talk…"

A furious snarl rent the air above him and the Drake was blindsided by the flat of Cyberdramon's spear blade, slamming into him like a giant fly swatter and knocking him straight off his feet, flinging him bodily through the air to crash into another bunch of Drakes.

The Dragons around them, who had been watching the exchange between the smaller ones with amusement thus far, roared and rose up angrily at Cyberdramon's strike on one of their own, wings unfurling and spreading, necks coiling backwards, smoke billowing from their nostrils and tails lashing and slamming the ground like giant, monstrous bullwhips. Cyberdramon planted a foot on either side of Dracomon and held his spear ready in front of him, meeting the enraged Dragons head on with his usual expressionless mask.

"You dare strike our young!" the wingless Silver Dragon roared.

"He was going for me first!" Dracomon cried in a desperate attempt to placate the situation but it didn't seem his words were even heard. The Silver Dragon surged forwards like a giant lizard and reared up onto its own hind legs, preparing to clash with Cyberdramon directly.

"**GLUTTON FANG!"** Cyberdramon suddenly yelled, speaking for the first time that day. The Silver Dragon was not expecting Cyberdramon's blue ribs to suddenly extend out of his chest, three on either side and struck the Silver Dragon in the shoulders before it had fully reared up, throwing it backwards and off-balance and forcing it to twist around into order to land back on its feet.

The Dragons around them practically caused an earthquake with the mere sound of their furious roars and several of them started forwards, fire leaking from their jaws in many cases and steam escaping from the noses of the others. Dracomon cringed as about five winged dragons and seven wingless ones were now surrounding them and he had absolutely no idea if Cyberdramon could fight them all off.

"And now you dare strike against us," the silver one growled. "You have made a costly mistake, pseudo-dragons!" He added, starting forwards again.

Dracomon was about to make another desperate protestation when a terrific bellow rose over all the others and thundered through the noise of all the angry others like a blast from a cannon – a single yell of, **"SILENCE!"**

Utter quiet followed immediately afterwards, as the rage of the riled dragons dissipated almost instantly, replaced with a subservient silence. Several of them backed away from the two strangers and the young Drakes that had not already done so scampered back to cower between the legs of any adult that would allow them to.

Two wingless Dragons moved aside as another winged member of their brethren joined then, with Chrysophylax following close behind. Dracomon felt his breath catch slightly as he beheld this new individual. This Dragon was _vast_, easily the biggest Dragon of all of them present by a clear margin, rising head and shoulders above all of them. He was jet-black and his neck was short in comparison to some of the other dragons there, as well his snout being much more blunted and rounded, but his body was much bulkier and his eyes were the same golden as all the others.

Not to mention the fact that he was covered in armour. And not just in terms of scales, though he had those too – he was wearing actual armour, as if it had been made for him by someone. Several thick armour plates ran down his neck and the top of his tail each one ending in a large, thick spike that jutted upwards like the back of a seat. His head was also covered with a helmet that looked like it had been moulded to fit it, metal casing covering the back and top of his head and curving around his eyes, ending just short of his nostrils, and topped with a single jagged forward-facing spike that extended upwards like a horn. His shoulders and limbs were also encased in armour and it covered a significant portion of his belly as well. And to cap it off the tip of his tail was adorned with an enormous metal barb that made an already dangerous tail-sweep even more deadly.

The other Dragons were clearly showing this individual deference, lowering their heads respectfully and giving him a wide berth. Dracomon almost felt the urge to bow his head himself when faced full on with this guy but he managed to stop himself.

Cyberdramon stared impassively.

"Now then," the large black Dragon snorted a puff of smoke from his nostrils. "Would someone like to explain to me what is going on?"

Chrysophylax stepped up beside him, even at his tallest being at least six feet shorter than this black dragon. "These are the supposed new Dragons that came and landed outside my cave. I thought perhaps everyone else would be interested in meeting them, though it seems that first contact has not been all that friendly."

"So I saw," the black Dragon rumbled, his voice a constant growling backdrop that seemed to originate somewhere within his stomach and reverberated its entire way up his throat and out of his jaws. "And so I see now that these… things… are indeed akin to our kind but strangely different. How odd. How claim that they have a fascinating tale to tell about themselves, Chrysophylax?"

"Not only fascinating," Chrysophylax responded. "Strange beyond words can say."

"I see," the Black Dragon said, stepping forward further until he was at the edge of a ledge the stood over the two Digimon, putting him at an ever higher position over the both of them. He lowered himself down onto his armoured stomach, gripping the edge of the ledge with his front claws and lowering his head down to scrutinise them in much the same way the other Dragons had previously done.

"Well then," the black Dragon pulling its jaws back in a gesture that could potentially be called a smirk. "Fascinate me."

"Um… now?" Dracomon asked, after Cyberdramon remained silent.

The black Dragon snorted. "Eloquent, this one. And it seems that you were right and the big one does remain silent. Very well then. I do not normally lower myself to speak with young drakes, and this one is even smaller than most, but since you are apparently the one with the story, let us here it. Entertain us all with your spectacular and fantastic tales. I can hardly wait. It's been so long since I heard a decent new story."

"O…okay," Dracomon stammered, then added, "Oh great and powerful one," for good measure, which seemed to please the black Dragon. And then he outlined and repeated everything that he had previously told Chrysophylax. Everything about what they were and where they came from and how they had found themselves here searching for friends and answers.

There was an occasional snicker from some of the other surrounding Dragons, but the face of the black Dragon remained impassive throughout everything that Dracomon was saying, his eyes silently telling him to continue all the while and Dracomon feeling as obliged to do so as before with Chrysophylax.

"…And, well, then we saw the smoke coming from Chrysophylax' cave and spoke to him and he led us here," Dracomon finished up.

The Dragons and Drakes around the area all looked up to the black Dragon for his reaction, but the Dragon's face remained still for several moments as he reared his head back up. His gaze turned up to Cyberdramon for a brief moment, but Cyberdramon gave absolutely no sign that he noticed or cared about it.

"Well…" the Dragon said. "That is quite something. And you honestly expect us all to believe that what you say is unequivocally true? That you are not even from Eä itself."

"It can't be true," said the silver Dragon. "It's got to be a bunch of lies. Whoever heard of something so ridiculous? These things are clearly just atrocities created by some sorcerer in mockery of our glorious image. What eyesores."

"I will be the judge of that," the black Dragon growled warningly, and the silver Dragon quickly shut up and bowed its head.

"Tell me, what is your name again, small one?" the black Dragon huffed.

"Dracomon," the little Digimon replied.

"Interesting name," the black Dragon responded. "And do you know who I am?"

"No… sir… I do not," Dracomon replied nervously.

"How vexing," the black Dragon responded. "Shall I perhaps alter that? Yes, I believe I shall. You are standing in the presence of Drogoth, the Dragon Lord. I am the greatest of the remaining Dragons of this world – the largest and most powerful of all the winged Fire Drakes that still reside in this mountains. You do know that telling lies and wild stories to one such as me would be a very unwise thing to do, do you not?"

"I… guessed it, yes," Dracomon nodded. "But I swear to you, Dragon Lord, that everything I said before it true. We are Digimon, from another world, and every Dragon there is a Digimon just like us."

"Oh, I'm sure," Drogoth responded blithely. "Very well then, let's say that I believe you for a moment. What would you want of us, if anything?"

"Well… not much," Dracomon replied. "Maybe just some general information about this world. Maybe a little bit of help in finding some of our other friends."

"So, you would come here into our Kingdom and start making demands of its Lord, would you?" Drogoth arched a brow plate.

"No, no of course not," Dracomon said, catching the dangerous tone in Drogoth's voice and having to stop himself from trembling a little. "We wouldn't demand anything from you. We would only ask if you would be willing to help and if you couldn't or wouldn't then… well… perhaps we would only ask to be allowed for somewhere to stay for a while so that we can recover a little bit. I haven't eaten for a couple of days myself."

"I see," Drogoth replied steadily, placated a little by Dracomon's response. "And this King of yours that you say is also a Dragon? Would you think that he too had been transported into this world from your own?"

"Well… maybe. I don't know really. I'm not exactly sure what happened or how even we got here. Who can say whether King Shoutmon also made his way into this world? I don't know for sure but he could have."

"And this Shoutmon?" Drogoth pressed on. "If he were to come here, what would he do? Because, you see, I really don't think I like the idea of two Dragon Lords being in the same place. I trust you are aware that this is my territory and I will not tolerate any interloper coming in here and attempting to take my throne."

"Oh no! No no! Shoutmon would never try and do that!" Dracomon waved his hands in a wild attempt to reassure the great beast towering over him. "I promise that. Shoutmon wouldn't try and muscle in on the turf of another just because he could. That's not like him at all. He's a great King but he holds respect for others."

"I see," Drogoth mused. "I might be interested to meet this so-called King of yours one day."

"Er… well, maybe you will," Dracomon offered. "If he's been thrown into this universe as well."

"You are indeed sticking rigidly to your incongruous story throughout all of my questionings," Drogoth noted. "Either you are telling the truth about all of this or you are desperately clinging to what you have in a bid to stop yourselves from being attacked. How should I decide which one it is?"

Cyberdramon took this moment to growl and heft the Twin Lancer in his hand. The Dragons watched him as he clenched the claws of his free hand together and slammed it against his armoured chest, resulting in a metallic clang from metal on metal, as he focused his blank eyes on the Dragon Lord in front of him.

"He…" Cyberdramon hissed, and Dracomon's eyes widened as what might be for the first time ever he heard Cyberdramon speak a work that was not one of his attacks or a curse word in the middle of a battle. "…is telling… the truth," he finished rasping.

Drogoth laughed, and it was even louder that Chrysophylax' laugh had been and Dracomon almost felt himself blown backwards a little by the sheer force of it. When it died down he said, "Well if your near silent friend is willing to break his muteness for the sake of your story then perhaps it is true after all. Very well, I believe you have been honest enough with me so far. I will, for now, believe that what you speak is the truth. Or at least that you believe it to be yourself."

"Oh, thank you," Dracomon said. "Thank you very much. I was starting to get worried that you wouldn't believe it there." He gave Cyberdramon a look of gratitude, but he didn't know if the big guy saw it because he didn't look down.

"So, will you help us try and find our friends?" Dracomon asked.

"Oh, I think it would be more… interesting… to wait and see if your friends come and find you here," Drogoth said with another smirk. "Let's see how many lengths your friends would be willing to go to in order to reunite with you. Assuming that your King cares about such a small creature as you. But then again, he might come and try to find a valuable asset to his forces like your big friend so you may be in luck there, Dracomon."

"Shoutmon _does_ care," Dracomon said. "He cares about all of us and considers us all friends and equals. He'd always come looking for us."

"Really?" Drogoth gave off a reptilian smile pulling his jaws back to reveal the teeth within in an eerie and rather disturbing way. "You are certain of this? Your mighty King would search over mountain and under valley for someone as miniscule as yourself? Surely you are not needed in his army. You are not necessary for maintaining the might of his kingdom. Why would he waste time and resources looking for someone like you when he has more powerful warriors that he might have to look for instead?"

"No, he…" Dracomon began, but stopped, frowning. Shoutmon would come for him, wouldn't he? He was as valued a member of Xros Heart as all the others, right?

For some inexplicable reason Dracomon found himself actually wondering whether that would be the case. His brain was telling him that of course Shoutmon would come for him. But another part of him was asking, 'Would he?'"

"He… he saved my life once," Dracomon said, loyally, frustrated that he couldn't shake off the question inside his head. "I was about to be overrun by a stream of lava and he went back and grabbed me, dragging me back and out of the way. Surely he would come for me."

"Really? Tell me more," Drogoth purred.

"Well… it was during the time when the Digital World had been taken over by Lord Bagramon and… we were fighting to try and free ourselves from it and make Shoutmon the King so that he could watch over us all and…"

"Ah… I see," Drogoth interrupted, shaking his head. "That makes sense to me now. Do you not think it possible that this Shoutmon saved you because he felt he would need every asset he had available to him in his rise to the top? Now that he is King, perhaps he would not feel you to be so necessary. Why would he when he now has the power he was seeking back then?"

"No… no…" Dracomon stammered, internally screaming at himself for doubting Shoutmon even for a second, and yet unable to stop himself for some reason. What he didn't know was that he was currently under the effects of Drogoth's Dragon Spell, a latent ability that many of the Dragons of this world possessed that allowed them to sway others to their way of thinking or make them question everything that they thought they knew.

Cyberdramon growled and slammed one end of his Twin Lancer into the ground, the jarring clang snapping Dracomon out of his thought process and quickly saying, "No, Shoutmon would definitely come for me. That's just the kind of person he is. He doesn't turn his back."

"…Indeed," Drogoth muttered after a moment, his eyes turning back up to fix on Cyberdramon again. Cyberdramon stared at him blankly, but Drogoth distinctly saw his claws tightening around the lance a little and his tail was visibly having to be held still to prevent it from lashing around in agitation.

The two stared at each other for several long moments, a pall of silence falling over the place as they met one another's silent challenge.

But then Drogoth broke his gaze away and turned back to Dracomon. "Well, whatever the case with your King, I would recommend that you stay here. You have safety and sanctuary here, as well as access to food and water whenever you need it. I assure you that a pair of Dragons, even strange looking ones such as yourselves, would not be welcome in most of the lands of Middle Earth. It would be much wiser for you to remain where your future would be secure."

"Not welcome?" Dracomon blinked. "What do you mean not welcome?"

"Oh this land is riddled with bands of Dwarves and hordes of Elves and cities of Men," Drogoth shook his head. "All of who would not hesitate to cut down a small Drake such as yourself on your sight, and all of which would certainly attack your silent friend. Alas, Dragons are not so well received in this world as in your own."

"Why not?" Dracomon asked.

Drogoth chuckled. "Why not he asks. Well, as you have graced us with the tales of your own world, fantastical as they may sound, it is only fitting that we ply you with our own story of our race. The race of real Dragons as opposed to you Digimon Dragons."

"Okay," Dracomon said, interested.

"We are by far the mightiest race on this Earth," Drogoth stood up, straightening his legs and unfurling his massive wings to their fullest extent – he was easily as big as that Fanglongmon had been if not bigger. "In terms of individual power there is not that can match us. We are the strongest, the noblest and the sturdiest of any race that you can still find in this world today. And we have dwelt in this world now for thousands of years, ever since the very First Age, and we are now well into the Third.

"Our armour is as tough as anything that can be crafted by the likes of Dwarf or Elf. Each of us when we reach adulthood are capable of crushing mountains, levelling forests, taming winds. Whenever we are hungry there is nothing that can stop us from acquiring our meat. Our noses can root out a droplet of blood from a mile away. Our eyes are as sharp as that of any Eagle. And for those of us capable of breathing fire, there is nigh on nothing that can continue standing before our blazes. Rock, metal, water… all of it melts or dissipates before us with the slightest of ease."

"I know what you mean," Dracomon said. "Dragon Digimon are usually considered, as a group, to be the strongest and most powerful kind of Digimon that can be found in our world."

"As well that should be, for Dragons will be Dragons no matter where they be from," Drogoth snorted. "And yet, the other peoples of Middle Earth will have naught to do with us. For they fear us. They fear all that I have just spoken of. They will not come within leagues of our Withered Heath and rightly so, for we do not need their kind amongst our own."

"Why not?" Dracomon asked. "Shoutmon always encourages everyone to get along if they can."

"A naïve sounding suggestion. If you are indeed from another universe you may not know this, but a day will never come when a Dragon will become an ally of a Dwarf. Not our variety of Dragon in any case," he amended a moment later. "Dwarves are a stubborn folk and they, along with all the other races of two legged beings of this world respect us, but they also fear us. They know that a single one of us could crush and burn hundreds upon thousands of them no matter what the circumstance may be.

"Because of that, they would not hesitate to kill us. Despite our might, I will admit that the number of Dragons that you see here now are but a fraction of the numbers we once held in this world. Our kind was created, long ago in the First Age, by the greatest of the Valar from the West. His name was Melkor, and we were his finest and mightiest of creations, greater in many cases even that the Balrogs of old. There was once a time when we roamed far and wide across this Middle Earth, but now we are few, and confined to the Grey Mountains here at the very northern point of the land. A cruel fate upon a race as strong as ours."

"What happened?" Dracomon asked, a little fearful of the answer.

Drogoth snarled, his teeth revealed and his eyes blazing, as his claws tightened around the rock ledge in front of it enough to fracture it. "Why the two legged beings happened of course. They feared us and they swarm around this world in their millions. Perhaps they were also jealous of our might, for despite their fear they would paint pictures of us on their banners and shields, perhaps hoping to emulate us in some fashion. Despite our immense strength we have been driven and beaten back to these secluded places."

"That's awful," Dracomon said, enthralled by the story.

"Indeed," Drogoth nodded. "Though we are immortal and the ravages of time do not affect us, admittedly we can be felled by the sword or the arrow under the right circumstances. And many of our great ancestors were brought low and slain by the two-legged creatures. The Father of Dragons and the first ever of our kind was known as Glaurung, the Great Wingless Fire-Drake, was felled at the hands of a Man before the First Age had even come to an end. The greatest of our Race, Ancalagon the Black, was slain by an Elf also in the First Age. And just recently, the greatest Dragon of the Third Age, admittedly even greater than myself – Smaug the Golden – was killed not sixty years ago after he dared to fly south over the villages of Men and Dwarf."

"That sounds terrible," Dracomon cried. "But surely you could reason with them? Start some sort of peace with them to make sure that they stop doing it?"

"Peace with the likes of them?" Drogoth scoffed. "Do not be a fool. They have long wrought their anger and fear on our kind. Peace with the likes of them is now impossible. The Dwarves delve deep in their mountains for buried treasures, which admittedly we Dragons do have a love of, but they have such a great love of it too that they would never think of aligning with us. They would be convinced that we would steal it from them. And the Elves fear our fires, for they make their homes in woodlands. And Men are Men – the most irrational and fearful species of them all, who would shoot us down on sight and fear for their precious livestock."

"Have you ever attacked them?" Dracomon asked.

"Of course," Drogoth snarled. "Would not you in our position?"

"Well… I don't know," Dracomon said. "Things might be a lot simpler if you had just talked to them."

"Speak to a Dwarf and he would thrust his axe into your belly or the roof of your mouth given half a chance before you could get three words out," Drogoth snarled, smoke billowing out of his mouth a little now as if every word he spoke increased his ire. "And you would be the same. I promise you, go South now and reveal yourself in front of a Dwarf or a Man and they would slash and gut you where you stand, no matter how small you may be for one day you might become a fully-fledged Dragon and they could never have that. And your friend, well… he may not resemble us in all manners but he is close enough. There would be no pause. There would be no discussion. There would only be arrows flying through the sky.

"But we are the strongest," Drogoth roared. "And mark my words, we will not be denied our right to fly freely through the skies wherever we choose forever."

Dracomon had a very small part of his stomach nagging at him, telling him that something was a bit off with what he was hearing, but the rest of him was ignoring it, totally captivated by Drogoth's story, and for some reason he was finding himself getting angry at the Dwarves, Elves and Men that he spoke of. Why would they do such terrible things to Dragons simply out of fear?

"So, you see, it is better if you stay here," Drogoth said once he calmed down a little. "Here you are safe and amongst your own kind, or at least as close to your own kind as a creature from another world can be. Here you will be protected, and if your friends are here too then perhaps we shall shelter them as well. You will stay here amongst us, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," Dracomon nodded, then blinked, wondering why he had said that so quickly before the feeling was banished and he obviously knew that staying here was the best idea. Surely the others would make their way here too eventually wouldn't they?

"Good," Drogoth said. "There is to be no harming of either of these two," he announced to the rest of the Dragons. "They are one of our number now." His head swivelled down to look at Dracomon again and he added, "But do not worry, small one, and larger near silent one. There is talk of a coming war. A war against the swarms of Dwarves, Elves and Men that infest this great land. Other beings which have been persecuted by their kind have been amassing to the west of here and rumours fly of a power that wishes to pay these creatures back what they owe the rest of the world. Perhaps one day solid news of this war will be brought to us. And perhaps we too shall leave our mountain halls and take back out rightful place as the strongest of the strong."

As Drogoth turned around and walked away, followed by Chrysophylax, Dracomon felt himself with the oddest of feelings. A large part of him was filled with an odd sense of anticipation of the upcoming war, and he had no idea where that had come from for he hated fighting. But there was another part of him, a smaller part, that was feeling quite uneasy about all this. That part of him was telling him that there was something not quite right about this, but it was mostly being drowned underneath the rest of him and he paid little attention.

Still, to him, staying here now seemed to be the most logical choice in the world. No, it was the only choice. They wouldn't do anything else for anything else was pointless.

Cyberdramon, on the other hand, growled lightly to himself, his tail thrashing a bit as he stared after the departing Drogoth. He had not believed anything that Drogoth had just said, or at least the parts where he had made the Dragons out to be innocent victims of the other races of the world.

Cyberdramon was a silent observer with an intense inner focus and concentration, and because of that he saw things that other Digimon didn't. He had felt, as Drogoth was speaking, a strange sensation washing over him, compelling him to believe what Drogoth was saying and to go along with his suggestions unequivocally, but because of that focus he had shrugged it off easily. He didn't trust Drogoth at all and he was half tempted to grab Dracomon and leave right now.

But he didn't. He could see Dracomon had been taken in, and the other Dragons around them were still wary of them. Attempting to leave now would invite an attack on them for disobeying the instructions of the Dragon Lord.

He would wait and see how this unfolded for now. He had to protect Dracomon and if what Drogoth said about an upcoming war was true, then he should probably find out a little more about that too before he did anything rash. Cyberdramon was patient. He would wait and see what happened.

* * *

And over with Drogoth, Chrysophylax said, "That was an interesting way of telling our story. You didn't mention that our creator was in fact the first Dark Lord Morgoth or that he unleashed the fiery fury of our ancestors on the Free Peoples of this world. Nor did you mention the continued attacks wrought by our kind throughout the First Age or how Smaug drove the Dwarves from their mountains and attacked the people of the Celduin before he was slain. Why did you not tell them of all that?"

"I want the two of them to remain close," Drogoth replied. "If they are from another universe then there may be many others like them out there and you heard what the small one said. The King that he described would certainly side with the two legged creatures and so would he if he knew the whole truth. Perhaps even my Dragon Spell would not have been able to sway him then."

"Then why do you want them close?"

"I have a feeling that it will not be long before Sauron approaches us to join us in his war," Drogoth smirked. "And when he does he may be very interested to learn of these interlopers from another world first-hand. And perhaps that large one could even be of help to us if we manage to deceive him."

"You intend to join then?"

"If the price is right yes," Drogoth chuckled. "The Free Peoples will know true fear with us at the head of the armies of Darkness. And you will follow me, will you not? For I am your Lord."

"If you so desire," Chrysophylax said, with an air of indifference.

"Be sure that you do," Drogoth said. "And spread the word amongst the others to keep an eye on that larger one. I believe he will be far more difficult to fool than the little one."

"Very well," Chrysophylax nodded and turned to walk away. Drogoth turned his head back around and saw Cyberdramon still staring at him blankly. Drogoth offered him what he hoped was a friendly smirk. Cyberdramon said nothing but a silent message passed between them in that moment:-

_I'm watching you._

* * *

Hehehe. This chapter was not quite like I originally envisioned it to be but I think it came out better than I was originally hoping for. The whole thing with the Dragon Spell never even occurred to me until I did some last minute research on Tolkien's Dragons specifically for this chapter and I remembered what Smaug did in his conversation with Bilbo in the Hobbit books. I tried to make the Dragons in this chapter speak in a similar manner to Smaug, so I can only hope that I pulled it off.

For anyone who's not familiar with the Battle for Middle Earth II game, Drogoth is a hero that was specifically created for the evil side in that game. Chrysophylax, on the other hand, is a Dragon that I invented for this story except for his name, which is the name of a Dragon that Tolkien used in a book that was not about Middle Earth apparently. So I thought I'd slip in a reference to it here.

Well, that's another chapter done. TTFN.

* * *

Next time…

In which Knightmon, Starmon and their companions finally come across a place where they can have some of their questions answered, and also in which Spadamon realises exactly why he's been getting a crawling sensation on the back of his neck ever since he got into this strange place.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 24 : Chance Encounters**


	24. Chance Encounters

Hello all. Sorry that this chapter might be a day late, but in reality it's not because my new uni schedule means that I have a ridiculously jam-packed Tuesday, so I can only get about half of my usual days' worth of writing done on Tuesdays anymore. So while I intend to try and get out a chapter every two days, any chapter that involves being written on a Tuesday will take at least three, like this one. Hehehe. But the good news is that I will stay on the bandwagon enough on all the other days and here I am with my next update now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter – it was immensely fun for me.

Although, I should mention, if there's anyone who reads this story that for some reason does NOT know how the story of the Hobbit ends then there might be a couple of spoilers in this chapter. I assume most of you do, but just in case, you have been warned.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 24:- Chance Encounters**

Knightmon was currently thanking his lucky stars for his seemingly endless reserves of patience.

* * *

Since Knightmon had been young, he had been serving in the forces of Princess Bastemon. He had been born in the Lake Zone castle along with all the PawnChessmon and he had excelled in battle enough to evolve up into his current form of Knightmon, allowing him to assume the mantle of not only the Captain of the Lake Zone's inhabitants, but the personal bodyguard of the Princess herself.

Knightmon had always taken to the job with a will putting one-hundred percent of his effort into everything he did. He would defend the princess and the other inhabitants of his Zone to his last breath if necessary and in fact if it had not been for Taiki Kudou it would be very possible he _would_ have breathed his last breath doing just that. And ever since he had joined Xros Heart, he had put the same level of commitment into serving both General Taiki and King Shoutmon to the best of his ability.

Nevertheless, even he had to admit that sometimes being the personal bodyguard of Bastemon had been hard work. Not often on his body, but on his mind, for even he could not deny that Bastemon had always been… a bit odd. The fact that she slept for two-thirds of the day meant that Knightmon often had a lot of time where he could do what he liked, but the simple fact that the one-third of each day that Bastemon did spend awake was usually in two minute intervals made things quite vexing a lot of the time, even for him. And when Bastemon was awake, she would often be slow and lethargic. Sometimes it would take her an entire day to come to a decision about what to do on a simple matter like whether the castle gate should be repainted or something.

Nevertheless, Knightmon had persevered and had learnt how to be gentle and patient with the princess, who seemed to have an unusual ability to fall asleep just about anywhere as well, as proven when she fell asleep right after the battle in the Sand Zone. And he had grown to care a great deal for the princess, whom he considered to be something like his charge in more than just a simple bodyguard sense. Sometimes he almost felt like he was her father, constantly checking to see if she was okay like a concerned parent than anything else.

There were not many Digimon that could have pulled off what Knightmon had really. His vast supply of patience had allowed him to fulfil his task of looking after one of the slowest and most easy-going Digimon in existence.

But now, he was walking along the bank of a large river, following it upstream to see where it went and hoping it would lead to some kind of civilisation and he was not in the company of the princess. The PawnChessmon were still with him, but the princess was nowhere to be seen, and he was worried. Very worried. One of the main bad things about his constant attentions was that the princess had never learned how to fend for herself or how to pitch in and help in a tough situation. Sometimes her physical power had been useful in a situation where she could be DigiXrosed with others, but when things got serious she was really not sure what to do.

What if she was alone? What if she was hurt? As her bodyguard, Knightmon naturally felt responsible for her, and the fact he was stranded who-knew-how-far-away from her while anything could be happening to her unnerved him. Deeply. He felt like he was failing in his duty, even though there was nothing he could do about the situation. A situation that had now lasted for two whole nights and one day.

He tried to convince himself that everything would be fine. Surely Bastemon would be alright – she must have landed with some other members of Xros Heart. If she had been transported along to this place at all. She would be fine, wouldn't she?

It sounded hollow in his head, but it was about the one thing he could say to make himself feel more at ease. Many of the other members of Xros Heart he was not so worried about, for they could fend for themselves in most situations… but yeah, she'd be alright.

(He had no way of knowing that right this moment Bastemon was lying curled up in a bush, shivering, with half an arrow embedded in her shoulder and panging at her every time she shifted it. But it was a good thing he didn't know. If he did, then he would have freaked out, and considering he was hundreds of miles away from her that would not have helped matters much.)

But still, as he trudged along the stony bank of the river with the PawnChessmon following along behind him, Knightmon found himself thanking that endless patience of his again, for although the princess wasn't here, he still had charges.

A lot of charges.

* * *

"Hey brothers!" Starmon yelled from Knightmon's head, prancing from side to side on his two bottom prongs. "I think I see something up ahead. Yay! I think I see something."

An abrupt chorus of little voices calling "Where? Where? Where? Yay! Where?" over and over again erupted around them and the multitude of Pickmon that followed Starmon everywhere he went immediately started jumping up and down from their perches on the heads and shoulders and arms which were folded like a cradle of Knightmon and all the PawnChessmon. The instant this happened several of them fell off their perches and tumbled, wailing, to the ground, where they bounced and rolled and span in many different directions, only to get up again and start shouting, "Where? Where? Yay! Where? Where?" again from wherever they stopped moving.

Knightmon sighed again, bending down once more as several PawnChessmon moved over and helped him as best he could, picking up the Pickmon and tossing them a little unceremoniously back into Knightmon's arms. This was getting ridiculous – they were making incredibly slow headway across the banks of the river. Knightmon wondered if they'd even gotten a couple of miles from their starting point so far.

Knightmon had nothing against the Pickmon. They all had good hearts, but they seemed to have very little brain individually. They were all capable of communicating telepathically between themselves and Starmon for a limited distance, and Starmon had once told him that the group of them counted as "one unit," whatever that meant. Knightmon wondered if it was some kind of shared mind that each member of the group had, and right now he was beginning to think that was a valid theory because each separate Pickmon was about as dense as teak.

Starmon himself wasn't that bad. He seemed to be reasonably intelligent, if a little bit of a simpleton, though he did have the same habit as all of the Pickmon of leaping up and down and yelling, "Yay!" a lot.

But the Pickmon just didn't seemed to think most anything that they did through and it was primarily because of them that they had been going so slowly. At first it had been simply because the Pickmon were slow movers. Their incredibly tiny legs meant that it took them a while to really walk anywhere on their own, especially with their awkward flat body shape. And over rocky terrain like this it was even more difficult for them because they had to be constantly clambering up over things and their stumpy arms – if you could call the appendages sticking out on either side of the pointed almost 2-D body an arm – were of no help at all when it came to climbing.

And even despite the slow walking the Pickmon were easily distracted by a lot of things and when one Pickmon found an interesting looking flower or beetle, many of the others would instantly want a look.

Starmon always noticed when his brothers started flagging and yelled encouragement for them to keep moving, but it seemed he never got exasperated by what they did. If he was a part of their collective mind though then that was not surprising.

Knightmon had found himself wishing for a Xros Loader. When Taiki had been able to carry all of the Pickmon around in the device attached to his waist things had been a lot simpler. But they did not have a Xros Loader so instead he had volunteered to carry the Pickmon so they could pick up the pace. Starmon was capable of moving quite quickly despite his lack of real limbs, but if they made the Pickmon continue walking on their own then they weren't going to get anywhere.

The Pickmon had immediately taken to the idea with some enthusiasm, each one screaming to be picked up first like an infant child. You would never be able to guess that each of these little guys were really hardened veterans of the fight against the Bagra Army and seasoned members of Xros Heart with their behaviour.

But, eventually, with the help of the PawnChessmon, Knightmon had been loaded up with the Pickmon, carrying most of them in his arms while some of the others rode on his shoulders, each of the PawnChessmon diligently carrying some themselves too, while Starmon rode Knightmon's head.

Initially it had seemed that they would be making much greater strides forward after that.

But the Pickmon were like perpetually hyperactive mice. Anything that remotely excited them got them bouncing up and down where they stood – it seemed as though they were utterly incapable of standing still for longer than about a minute or so with doing _something_ like jumping into the air. And when they did, they invariably fell off. They were more used to riding on the likes of Ballistamon, who had a flat and wide head and shoulders. The domed shoulders of Knightmon's armour was not something easy for them to stand on even without the jumping around.

Knightmon had to keep on bending down to load up more of the Pickmon that had fallen off yet again and then straighten up to carry on their way. Except for twice when a couple of the Pickmon had, once again, landed straight in the river, rolling down the stone bank and into the water and being whisked away down the current. Both times that had happened Knightmon had charged back after them, practically hurling the rest of the Pickmon into the air as he drew his sword and fished the little guys out before they got too far.

And not to mention Knightmon had to keep stopping for a headcount, just to make sure that they hadn't lost any of the Pickmon. Thirty silver ones, twenty white ones, one red one. Yep. Miraculously, they were all there each time.

The PawnChessmon themselves where more than capable of keeping up, scurrying along in the wake of Knightmon's long strides, even over the strides. But as one of them tossed the red Pickmon into the waiting Knightmon's arms, it asked, "What did you see this time, Starmon?"

"There's something in the river, my brothers!" Starmon yelled, pointing wildly ahead of them with… a point. "Something coming this way!"

"Could it be a boat?" Knightmon asked, straightening up and trying to keep the Pickmon still balanced on his shoulders from falling off.

"I don't think so," Starmon said, trying to focus through the dark shades that seemed to be part of his face since he had no nose to balance them on. "Looks like a lot of smaller somethings in the middle of the river."

"Small things like us!" cried one of the Pickmon.

"Yay! We like things like us!" yelled another.

"Yay!" called many more.

Knightmon squinted ahead, stepping closer towards the river edge as he tried to see what they could be. The PawnChessmon clustered around him, peering through their face-plates, two them lifting them up to reveal the yellow eyes beneath as they tried to get a better view.

"They… they look like…" Knightmon murmured. "…barrels?"

And so they were. The party of sixty three individual Digimon stood on the bank and watched with no small amount of bemusement as about twenty barrels hove into view, bobbing and dunking and rolling over in the middle of the river in what was almost single file, spinning lazily in circles as they floated along with the current. They were quite large barrels too, and the Digimon could only stare as they drifted on past, winding their way down in the opposite direction to the way the Digimon had been travelling.

"What was that all about?" asked a PawnChessmon.

"I don't know, but it tells me one thing," said Knightmon. "If there are barrels in the river then something must have _put_ them in the river in the first place. That proves that if we continue to follow the river then we shall happen upon something eventually. Now, let's press on, and perhaps we'll finally find some kind of civilisation soon."

"Yay! Civilisation!" Starmon yelled.

"Yay!" cried all the Pickmon, bouncing up and down and resulting in a small avalanche of them as they tumbled to the floor yet again. Knightmon closed his eyes, sighing deeply and thanking any gods that existed for the continued strength not to give each of them a bop on the head with his fist, before he bent down and waited for the PawnChessmon to load him up again.

* * *

They did make some rather better progress after that, the Pickmon seeming to realise that they had some objective in sight now and falling more quiet for a while, although they still got excited by things like dragonflies and interestingly shaped clouds and occasionally fell off again, but mostly they stayed put and allowed Knightmon and his squadron of ten PawnChessmon to step on.

Soon, they came they came to what appeared to be some king of narrow gulley, where the land rose up on either side of the river steadily, creating a valley between the two with only a very narrow bank remaining on either side of the wide river. Knightmon paused at the entrance, wondering if it would be a good idea to go in there, but deciding to risk it.

"Try and hold still now," Knightmon instructed his charges and he moved in, stepping carefully over the rocky bank and shifting against the rock wall. "This is very important. If you all start falling off here then there's a good chance most of you will end up in the river in a place like this. Hold steady."

"You heard him brothers!" Starmon called. "Hold steady."

With a more precarious situation presented to them, the Pickmon finally managed to do just that and stayed as quiet and as still as they possibly could, nestling into Knightmon's arms and against each other if they could and waiting with baited breath as they tried to all focus on the object.

The progress was still slow but this time steady, as the Digimon manoeuvred their way through the narrow gulley, watching as the walls around them rose higher and higher upwards like colossal, jagged stone walls.

"It's like a tunnel without a roof," Starmon gave it an adequate description – one which Knightmon agreed with.

But the tall humanoid Digimon could see light at the end of that tunnel and he pressed on as quickly as he dared. One of the PawnChessmon slipped on a rock behind him and almost fell in the river but two of his fellows managed to grab and steady him before he crashed down face-first into the water.

And slowly, finally, they emerged back out into the light… and blinked at what they saw.

There was a huge expanse of water stretching out ahead of them – a massive lake that stretched at the very least for several miles in terms of both length and width. Knightmon couldn't help but feel slightly nostalgic as he remembered the great Lakes of the Zone that he had once lived in in Bastemon's castle, but this one was bigger even than most of those lakes. And surrounding the lakes were several large cliffs like the ones on either side of them, as well as a few high mountains, creating the impression of some kind of bowl in the land that held the lake itself.

But that wasn't the most interesting part. The most interesting part was that, in front of them, there was a large city of some kind built on the surface of the lake itself. Every building seemed to be made of wood, and there was a series of raised wooden walkways making up its streets and winding around in clear-cut paths that were connected by numerous bridges, allowing several canal-like passageways to run through the city for numerous boats to get through.

And there were a lot of boats indeed, lots of small vessels like canoes and a few larger ones that allowed space for quite a few passengers, as well as a few rafts that could be guided around by punting poles. They surrounded the great wooden city on all sides, weaving in and out and around one another skilfully as they went on their way. This was a place where the people were obviously used to living on the water.

It was like some kind of wooden Venice, although of course Knightmon had no idea what Venice even was so the comparison would not really have made much sense to him anyway.

"WHOA!" Starmon yelled leaping from his perch and landing on the rocks in front of Knightmon. "That's an AWESOME looking place, brothers!"

"YAY! AMAZING AND AWESOME!" cried the Pickmon, all of them now tumbling from their perches all over Knightmon and the PawnChessmon. The larger Digimon just let them fall this time, not bothering to try and pick them up. Knightmon in particular was noticing something. Even though he had to squint to see most of the passengers of the boats, he was able to make out one particular thing about them.

"Humans?" Knightmon blinked. "They're all humans over there. Unmistakeably humans."

"Humans? Really?" one of the PawnChessmon asked.

"Are we in the Human World?" another one questioned.

"Do you think this is where General Taiki lives?" one white Pickomon squeaked.

"Nah, Taiki lived in a huge concrete city that was even bigger and wasn't on a lake," Starmon said. "This can't be where he lives, but still, humans is good right brothers? Maybe they have a General in there that can help us get back to our world! YAAAAYY!"

"YAAAYYY!" The Pickmon chorused, leaping up and down joyously like their lives had all been saved.

"Well at least we found civilisation at last," Knightmon said. "Even if it isn't Digimon related like we were hoping. Hmm," he placed his fingers across his chin, thinking carefully about what to do next.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Starmon rocked back and forth. "Let's go and introduce ourselves to everyone over there!"

"Hold," Knightmon said, raising an arm and stopping the Pickmon as they attempted to scurry away. "It might be best if we were to proceed with caution. Taiki once told us that they don't have creatures like us in their world and most Humans do not know about Digimon. It is possible that they might be a little confused by the presence of all of us."

"Well then what are we supposed to do? We can't hang around here forever." Starmon voiced.

"Indeed not," Knightmon nodded. "Perhaps it would be better if I were to proceed alone at first. I closely resemble humans after all, or at least am the closest to looking like one out of our numbers here. I shall introduce myself and our situation first and then I shall call upon the rest of you to join me when I have explained. It is unlikely that your presence would cause a panic of course, but it might be best to ensure they don't think of you as some strange interloper."

"Good luck, Lord Knightmon," one of the PawnChessmon peeped as Knightmon stepped away on his own.

"Hopefully I shall not need luck," Knightmon said. "Wait here until I return."

He could see that the only way of getting into the city from land was via a long walkway on one side of the lake – the west side, which meant that he would have to cross the river since he was on the east side. Fortunately here at the mouth of the river from the lake the water was not particularly fast flowing. Nor was it wide or necessarily deep, though as Knightmon waded out into it the water level still reached up to his short neck at its deepest before he moved out onto the opposite bank.

And then he set off towards the walkway ahead.

* * *

The town itself was known as Esgaroth, sometimes nick-named Lake-Town due to its setting, and it was a bustling place where Men walked across the various platforms and bridges unhurriedly, carrying out their day to day chores with diligence and surety. The leader of this place was referred to as its Master, and he was generally considered to be a wise man that had led Esgaroth to a life of great prosperity once again after the disaster that had occurred sixty-years ago, when the wrath of the great Fire-Drake Smaug had descended upon Lake-Town and wrought terrible destruction that torched practically the entire wooden structure and brought the city to complete ruin before the Dragon was slain by Bard the Bowman.

The Master of Lake-Town at that time had been a cowardly man, who had been one of the first to flee the place, but sixty years on there was a new Master, who was getting on in years, but who had led a long life and brought the Lake-Town back from its destruction, moving it further down the lake and building it bigger and grander than ever and naming it Esgaroth. The dragon's bones now lay at the bottom of the lake and the charred ruins of the old Lake-Town could still be seen further northward, a testament to that terrible time.

Now, the town had a greater military might than it had had when Smaug had attacked, and although the place was still made of wood, special design features had been inlaid into that wood that made it less susceptible to flames. If another Dragon came and attacked the place then the latter probably wouldn't make much difference but the former would be much more equipped to deal with the Dragon than they had once been.

And so the Men that now lived there could continue their lives, knowing that they were much better protected from outside threats than ever before.

That said, there were not just Men in city right at this moment. There were also a few other individuals that had come down from the North.

Dwarves.

A small company of Dwarves to be precise, who had come from the Northern Kingdom of Erebor under the Lonely Mountain to do trade with the Men of Esgaroth. For that was how Esgaroth made much of its business, trading between the Dwarves of Erebor, the Men of Dale and the Elves of Mirkwood.

There were five Dwarves loading up supplies onto the back of a cart, which was firmly attached to a yurg – a great beast that resembled something like a rhinoceros, except with a humped back and a long horn that originated at the top of its head pointed down the front of its face to stick out in front of it, which the Dwarves used in place of horses for pulling their carts. The Dwarves were loading things up such as barrels of wine, fine meats that they could not obtain themselves in the mountains and other food stocks.

One of the Dwarves, the leader of the group, was tall amongst their kind with a black beard hanging beneath a bald head covered with tattoos and with a pair of hammer-like axes crossed and hanging from his back. His name was Dwalin, and he was one of the thirteen Dwarves that had been amongst the company that had gone to Erebor in the first place to try and take the mountain back from Smaug sixty years ago. Dwarves were long-lived beings and Dwalin had gained a few grey and white hairs in his beard since then, but he was still going strong.

"Put that there," he instructed another Dwarf as he helped him lift a large barrel of wine that was almost as big as they were onto the back of the cart and shove it backwards before they clambered up behind it and secured it to the back of the cart. "Make sure its tight. We don't want any accidents like that last time we made this supply run."

"Right you are," chuckled the Dwarf, who was wearing a woolly hat that stuck out to either side and had a long handle-bar moustache and a short tuft of hair on his chin; an unusual fashion choice amongst Dwarves who mostly had long beards, though there were many exceptions. The Dwarf patted the top of the barrel as Dwalin heaved the rope over it down and said, "You know, it never fails to amuse me when I think about how we once drifted down the river inside barrels like this, eh Dwalin."

"Aye, I'm well aware of that Bofur," Dwalin rolled his eyes as he stepped off the back of the cart with a heavy thud. "You make that comment most every time that you come down here to help with the supply run."

Bofur chuckled – he too had been one of the thirteen that had made the quest with Dwalin and the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins, uncle of Frodo. "Well you can't really blame me can you? I get such a sense of nostalgia every time."

Dwalin sighed through his nose. "Aye, as do I," he said. "Makes me remember the feeling of camaraderie that we had as we went through thick and thin on that quest. And I'm sure that Thorin would agree if he were… well, you know…"

Bofur nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said sadly. "But let's try and keep our spirits up don't we Dwalin? Thorin accomplished what he set out to do and he wouldn't have us getting cut up about the past now would he? Let's get going shall we? The sooner we get back, the sooner we can reunite you with your wife and kids."

Dwalin chuckled fondly. Since the Quest to Erebor had come to an end he had settled down and had started a family. He was still a warrior to the core, but he had married a Dwarf woman with a fine beard and had, so far, ten children. Yes, ten. Seven boys and three girls. This was a high number of children for any Dwarf and a higher number of daughters than usual as well, but Dwalin was intensely proud of his family, four of which had been born in the last twenty years.

"They are a rowdy bunch of blighters, sure enough," Dwalin snorted as he thought of them.

"Do you reckon that they'll get a chance to meet their Uncle anytime soon?" Bofur queried as the other Dwarves loaded the last of the stuff onto the cart.

Dwalin grimaced. "I don't know," he said. "It's been years since we last heard from him. I've been wondering if I should try heading down to Moria to pay him a visit myself soon."

He was referring of course to his brother, Balin – another one of the Dwarves that had gone on the Quest to Erebor and one of Thorin Oakenshield's closest confidantes at the time. After their success with reclaiming the Mountain and the destruction of a large number of goblins at the Battle of Five Armies, Balin had set out with a company of Dwarves twenty-nine years ago to try their luck in reclaiming the ancient Dwarf Kingdom of Moria once again.

They had received a message from him a while later telling them that they had succeeded in reclaiming the place and where beginning to rebuild the Dwarven kingdom of old.

But it had been over twenty years now since they had last heard anything from Moria.

This wasn't exactly unusual – it was a long journey from Moria and sending message was difficult but still, Dwalin often felt ill at ease about it. He would have gone to Moria himself with his brother had it not been for his ever growing family back at Erebor. But still, Dwalin had no idea what fate had befallen his elder brother.

Dwalin shook himself. Worrying about his brother at this stage was next to pointless – he would hear any news, good or ill, eventually and in due course. "Come on then," he patted the flank of the yurg as he hauled himself onto the cart while another Dwarf took the reigns. "Let's get moving. Sooner we get back to Erebor the sooner we can tear open these supply cases and feast."

There was a ragged yell of approval from the other Dwarves and the rest of them clambered into the cart – Bofur pulling out his pipe and lighting it – as the Dwarf at the helm flicked the reigns and the yurg let loose a grumbling rumble before setting off at a high clip across the wooden walkways. Dwalin gave some nearby soldiers a salute by making a fist and pounding it against his chest, and they returned the gesture, silently thanking them for the continued trade that allowed the mountain and the lake to flourish.

The yurg turned a couple of bends and ran over a bridge, which had to be quite a hefty one to support the weight of the beast even though it was not as large as some of them could grow to be, and then turned again until they were on the main walkway off the lake-town to the shoreline and set off down it, picking up the pace a little as they moved.

But then, Bofur spotted a figure stepping up the middle of the walkway at the far end and frowned. It looked like a Man, but it was clad in a completely full suit of armour with no skin visible anywhere, not even on its face which was hidden behind a grated faceplate and visor. And it was like no armour that the Dwarf recognised, not to mention it appeared to be carrying no less than three swords one of which was nearly as tall as him and half as broad, and had a huge shield strapped to his back.

Bofur banged his hand against the side of the cart and called, "Here, Dwalin. There's some strange Man walking towards us from up ahead. Doesn't look like he's from Esgaroth."

"What?" Dwalin frowned, pushing himself upwards to get a look himself. He frowned in bemusement and grew wary, lifting up his giant hammer that he had lain on the side of the cart. "Pull to a stop beside him," he called. "But stay sharp. And one of you head back to the town and alert the Men."

One of the other Dwarves nodded and hopped off the back of the cart, running back the way they had come as fast as he could, his beard flapping a little in the breeze as he did so, while the driver pulled on the reigns and slowed the pace of the yurg pulling the cart to a walk. The cart as its passengers drew closer to the tall person, who the Dwarves could now see was taller than the average Man, until both of them came to a stop a few metres away from one another.

Dwalin hopped over the side of the cart and strode out towards the front, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. Dwalin had always held a slight mistrust for anyone that was not a Dwarf, preferring to rely on the strength and sturdiness of his kin to anything else, though thankfully that distrust had ebbed somewhat after the Quest of Erebor where he had worked closely with the Wizard Gandalf and the Hobbit Bilbo, and formed more alliances with other races than before. But he could be excused for holding a mistrust for a strange Man in strange armour appearing out of seemingly nowhere like this.

"What business have you here, stranger?" Dwalin asked gruffly, getting straight to the point. "State your name and allegiance?"

Dwalin was not expecting the Man to suddenly get down on one knee and bow his head to him, putting himself on about level height with the average Dwarf, but since Dwalin was quite tall for their kind he lowered himself even lower.

"Excuse me if I have trespassed," the Man said in a courteous voice. "But I am afraid that I am lost and require assistance to find out where I am and perhaps locate some companions whom I have seemingly misplaced. My name is Knightmon, good sir, and my allegiance is to anyone who fights for justice and honour."

Dwalin blinked, but examined the Man closely. He sounded pleasant enough, but Dwalin had long since learned that you can never be too careful when dealing with a stranger. Precaution was never something to take lightly.

As the Man looked up, Dwalin gave the proper Dwarf greeting and lowered himself into a bow as well, though not getting to one knee and said, "Dwalin, at your service."

"No, it is I that would be at your service, Sir Dwalin," Knightmon said without getting up. "But could you tell me please where I am? I have been wandering up the river that runs to the South for over a day now hoping to find civilisation before I happened upon this majestic looking wooden city."

Bofur chose this moment to chip into the conversation, hopping onto the side of the cart and sitting on it, his legs dangling over the side and smiling brightly. "Well this lad seems friendly enough," he said.

"True, but first impressions are not always everything," Dwalin pointed out, lowering his hammer a little but still holding it ready.

"Well I suppose it can't hurt to answer his questions," Bofur pointed out. "After all if he is lost then he needs them answering and if he's not then we probably wouldn't be telling him he didn't know already." He turned to Knightmon, dipped his head and said, "Bofur, at your service. And you're currently standing at the entrance to the charming little wooden lake town of Esgaroth. Does that name ring any bells in that helmet of yours?"

"I'm afraid it does not," Knightmon shook his head. "I fear that I am well away from every place that I know, for I have never heard of Esgaroth, nor have I ever seen any of the landscapes around me. And I have a question for you now, good sirs."

"Well he's got manners," Bofur chuckled. "Fire away then. What's your question?"

"Have you ever heard of a Digimon?"

Dwalin and Bofur both frowned at that question and turned to look at one another, blinking. Bofur shrugged a little helplessly to Dwalin, and when the burly Dwarf turned to the other two sitting in the cart he saw that they too looked bemused. Dwalin turned back to Knightmon with a frown and said, "No."

"I thought not," Knightmon sighed. "It would be so much simpler if you had. For you see, I may resemble a human, but unlike you, I am not one."

"Excuse me?" Dwalin frowned, with a slight edge to his voice. "What did you just say we were?"

"Humans," Knightmon blinked, not sure what had caused this response.

"And what exactly is a human, may I ask?" Dwalin asked. "If it is some kind of insult then you should know that we Dwarves do not take very kindly to such things."

"Insult?" Knightmon asked. "No, it was no insult, good sir. Forgive me, there appears to be some form of misunderstanding. Did you say that your kind was called… Dwarves?"

"That's right," Bofur nodded. "Dwarves is what we are, through and through. Are you telling me that you can't recognise a Dwarf when you see one? We might not be much taller than a Hobbit but I've never seen a Hobbit with facial hair."

"No, I am afraid that I have never encounter Dwarves before," Knightmon stated. "I… am afraid to say I've never even heard of you."

"Never heard…" Dwalin spluttered. "You're telling me that you've never heard of a Dwarf before?"

"Are you telling me that you've never heard of a human before?" Knightmon countered.

"Nope. Never," Bofur said.

Knightmon frowned and looked up, past the Dwarves. He clambered to his feet and pointed. "But there are some humans coming down the walkway towards us, surely," he said.

The Dwarves glanced back briefly, to see the fifth member of their party leading a bunch of armed Men towards them, some carrying swords and some carrying bows and quivers of arrows. Dwalin turned back quickly and said, "Those are not humans either. Those are Men. You are telling me you've never heard of them either?"

"No, I have heard of men," Knightmon said. "But is that not the name for adult, male humans?"

"It is the name for their entire race," Bofur shook his head. "I don't know where you're from, my friend, but it must be a very backwards place if you don't know this stuff. There aren't many places in Middle Earth that you would never have heard of Dwarves or Elves."

"Elves?" Knightmon muttered.

"Oh, don't tell me…" Bofur blinked.

"I am beginning to think I understand a little more now," Knightmon sighed as the remaining Dwarf and the Men ran up behind them.

"What's going on?" one of the Men carrying a longbow asked. "Who is this Man? Take off your helmet sir and let us see your face?"

"Take off my helmet? I am afraid that I cannot to do that," Knightmon shook his head.

"Do you not want us to see your face?" Dwalin folded his arms. "That's not going to help you win anyone's trust."

"I am afraid that my helmet simply does not come off," Knightmon replied simply. "It is fixed to the rest of my suit of armour and that does not come off either."

"Ridiculous," snorted of the Men. "Are you telling us that you never step out of that suit of armour?"

"Yes, that is what I am telling you," Knightmon nodded. "It may sound hard to believe and I have been asked how I eat without taking my helmet off on more than one occasion (to be honest I don't really know myself), but it is the truth. And now I think I am beginning to gain a bigger grasp on my current situation so I am going to tell you something else. Something that is going to sound even more outlandish, but I swear now, on my honour as a Knight, that everything I am about to reveal to you is true."

And there followed the explanation that had already been given by many a Digimon over the course of the last day and a half and which many other people of Middle Earth had already heard – the explanation of what a Digimon was, and how they came from an entirely different universe to this one, and how they had somehow, inexplicably, found their way into this universe and were now stranded, lost, and separated, possibly across the length of the land.

When he had finished, Dwalin was looking at him as if he was completely mad. "Well," he said, a moment later, nodding as if understanding something. "That was quite a story you've got there, Master Knightmon. And how are we supposed to believe anything that you have just said beyond the fact you gave your word. Because that sounds suspiciously like the biggest load of twaddle I have ever heard in my entire life."

"I swear to you that I would not lie," Knightmon bowed his head. "I am a Digimon of my word. And if you wish for further proof that I am not an ordinary hum… er… Man… then I can give it to you, if you wish. I have left some of my friends back there by the mouth of the river to the South," he gestured out with his arm. "If you wish you can come out there and meet them yourselves. They, I suspect, are like nothing you have ever seen before in this world."

The Dwarves and Men looked to one another for several moments, asking themselves what they should do now wordlessly.

"Aw, go on," Bofur waved his pipe jovially. "Let's humour the Man… Digimon. Even if he's lying through his helmet grate he deserves that for being able to come up with such an inventive and mad story as that. I haven't heard something as weird as that since… well… ever."

Dwalin nodded gruffly. "Fair enough then," he said. "Take us to your friends. But if this is some kind of trap…"

"It is not, I promise you," Knightmon stated. "But they are also on the opposite bank to the river and… most of them are too small to cross it safely. Perhaps I could also ask for a boat?"

"Very well," the captain of the Men said. "We'll get a boat and all of us but you will approach from the water via a single vessel. You can go back to your friends on foot."

"Fair enough," Knightmon nodded. "I shall abide by your conditions." And he turned around wordlessly and headed back the way he had come.

"Seems friendly enough. And honourable," Bofur noted.

"I think I'll reserve my judgement until after I meet these friends of his," Dwalin muttered. "Turn around. We'll leave the yurg and the supplies with the Men of the town until we return for them."

"If it's not a trap and we all get cut down by a volley of arrows," Bofur added cheerfully. Dwalin rolled his eyes.

* * *

It was not long after that that the boat was sailing out across the Long Lake, away from the wooden town behind it and towards the river mouth. It was the barge that took the barrels of wine out to the mouth of the river earlier that self-same day – the barrels would travel down the River Running to the realm of Dorwinion on the west coast of the Sea of Rhûn; the same ones that Knightmon and the others saw floating past them on the way up.

"So what are the chances that he was not making any of that up?" one of the Men asked.

"I don't know," Dwalin mused, thumbing his beard a little. "But I know one thing. Someone could only tell a story as utterly strange as the one he told unless he was actually telling the truth or he thought we were all complete idiots. It can't be one or the other."

The barge turned side on as it neared the mouth of the river and the Dwarves and Men crowded to one side. As they drew closer they saw Knightmon standing sentinel on the west bank of the river, and as they drew within earshot he swept his arm out to the east bank and said, "As I said, these are my friends."

Needless to say, when the Dwarves and Men looked and saw the other Digimon on the bank, they were quite beyond surprised. They didn't really know what they were expecting but the ten titchy little oddly shaped and visored beings waving their little spears in salute was definitely not among the things they had. And the golden Star-shaped thing bouncing up and down surrounded by dozens of beings so small they could have fit into the palm of the hands of the Dwarves was even less so.

"Yaaaaay! We're being rescued brothers!" Starmon was yelling loudly. "The big humans have come to help us out!"

"Yaaaay! YAY! YAY! YAY!" the Pickmon cried, hopping around like mad things and the red one almost slipping into the water again.

"Give them our warrior's salute, PawnChessmon," Knightmon raised his giant sword into the air.

"PAWN!" echoed the ten Digimon, thrusting their spears upwards and holding their shields ready in front of them.

For a moment, there was silence on the barrel-barge.

"Okay, I believe them," Bofur stated.

"I must be hallucinating surely," Dwalin muttered.

"Well," Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. "If you're hallucinating then so are the rest of us, my friend. I think it's genuine."

"Still…" Dwalin shook his head. "Creatures from another world? Is that _really_ possible?"

"Based on the evidence at hand," Bofur replied. "I suppose it is. Come on, let's give them the benefit of the doubt, eh? Besides, do those things really look like some kind of dark creature to you?"

Dwalin glanced back at Starmon and the Pickmon who were still all bouncing around going, "Yay! Yay! Yay!"

"I guess not," he replied. "Right then. Let's get 'em on board."

It took a while, but they managed to get Knightmon onto the boat and then move across the pick up the rest of the Digimon. The PawnChessmon helped load the Pickmon aboard where they could but the little guys still fell into the water a couple of times and had to be rescued again. Once, even Dwalin reached out with his hammer and hooked one before it could sink or get swept away.

Then they had all the Digimon in the middle of the boat with the Men and Dwarves warily standing around them, keeping a very close eye on where they put their feet less they stepped on and crushed one of the Pickmon. They needn't have worried – despite their looks the Pickmon were very durable and could easily take being stepped on by something like them.

"So, what are we meant to do now?" asked another one of the Dwarves.

"We seek only sanctuary and perhaps some aid," Knightmon said. "We have been separated from many of our comrades, including the Princess that I am supposed to be the personal bodyguard of, and our King. If you could do anything that might help us find them…"

"Yes, please help us find our brothers!" Starmon called, flipping himself up like a buzzsaw until he landed on Knightmon's shoulders. "We hate being separated like this – we all belong in a nice big family together, don't we?"

"A big family," echoed the Pickmon.

"Looks like you've got a pretty big family right here," Bofur remarked.

"Well, I can see what the Master of Esgaroth will say but we don't usually leave the town very much, though we could possibly send out some riders," the captain offered.

"That is very kind of you," Knightmon nodded thankfully.

"Indeed," Dwalin interjected. "But there is another party that might be of benefit to you. My people – the Dwarves of Erebor. We Dwarves do not live here in the city – we live in the great mountain fortress to the north, which lies behind the great city of Men called Dale. And I think that Dain Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain, as well as King Brand of Dale, would be very interested to meet you too and to hear your… bizarre story."

"If your Kings could potentially help us to find our lost companions then I would glad meet with them," Knightmon nodded. "We all would. Where are these Kingdoms?"

"A short journey to the North," said Bofur. "You will come with us? You can all ride in the cart with us, if you like."

"Gladly," Knightmon nodded. "We shall go with you… to Erebor."

"Yay! We're going on a road-trip!" Starmon yelled.

"Yay!" the Pickmon chorused.

* * *

Meanwhile, a very long way to the west, over the forest of Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains, past Rivendell, Weathertop and even past Bree, Spadamon shivered again. He couldn't stop himself. It was not particularly cold out here, but there was just something… wrong about it. Something that was triggering the involuntary action within him, generating a creeping, crawling sensation that seemed to run over every part of his skin, from the toes up and back down again and running up to the tip of his tail.

He was growing to hate this place.

No, scratch that, he had come to hate it a long time ago. But for the life of him he couldn't find a way out.

Was he going in circles?

He couldn't possibly know. Most everywhere here looked the same because of all the damn fog. The fog around here seemed to be never-ending, meaning that he could only see clearly for about ten feet and most everything beyond that was blurry and indistinct. And although Spadamon had no idea about it, yesterday Sparrowmon had flown overhead above the fog, and hadn't even seen him because of it.

Spadamon felt like he was trapped, like the fog actually had a dense mass that was trying to push him to the ground or smother him. He had been here for what he assumed was at least two nights, but he could only guess that much because it had gotten dark twice. But Spadamon had not slept. How could he possibly sleep in a place like this? It was terrifying and there had been more than one occasion where Spadamon had thought he heard a rattling hissing noise that sounded like some hideous thing in the fog breathing.

More than once he had thought he had seen movement in the fog somewhere, but each time he had looked again it had gone and he had hurried in the opposite direction very quickly.

He _had_ to find a way out. But where was out? Even without the fog he might have been having some problems. There was nothing but low hills in every direction – there didn't seem to be a flat section of ground larger than a couple of square feet in any place here whatsoever. And there were tall boulders dotted around the place, many of them barely visible in the fog, but standing erect like ancient guardians watching over the place.

Not that they made Spadamon feel very secure.

He did feel a little more comfortable when it was daytime. He could look up and see the light of the Sun forcing its way through the fog as much as it could and that made him feel slightly better. He hadn't heard any breathy noises or seen any strange movements while the Sun was up so far so that was something.

But he could never shake that creepy feeling nevertheless.

As he kept walking and mulling over that horrible feeling he blinked and then started bashing himself in the head. What was he doing? He may not be a large and powerful Digimon like Greymon or Deckerdramon. He may not be as tough as Shoutmon or Dorulumon but dang it, he was Spadamon and if there's one thing that he was, he was brave. He'd always had courage, even in the face of something much larger than him, so what was wrong with him now? Why was he feeling like this?

He bolstered himself up and puffed out his chest, flicking his tail out behind him as if to try and fill himself with some kind of self-confidence.

Almost immediately the sensation of creepiness tried to return to him though. It was as if the feeling was alive and was determined to fill him up completely and Spadamon shuddered again involuntarily, getting angry with himself for doing so. What was wrong with him, seriously?

Or more to that effect, what was wrong with this place that was making him feel like that?

He had mustered up the courage to start calling out again – he had done this several times already, but never when it was dark and never had he received a reply.

"Hello!" he called into the fog as he clambered over the top of another hill. "Is anyone out there! HELLOOOO! CAN ANYONE ANSWER ME?"

The only thing that answered was his echo, which drifted away slowly as if it was trying to mock him. Spadamon growled and cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out towards the horizon. "KING SHOUTMON! ANYONE! LUNAMON! CORONAMON! DORULUMON! BALLISTAMON! HELLOOOO! PLEASE SOMEONE JUST ANSWER! IS THERE ANYONE WHO CAN HEAR ME?"

More silence followed and Spadamon noticed that the fog just seemed to be getting more and more dense the further he walked. He had never been claustrophobic but he was beginning to think that he would be after all, as it seemed to crowd above him in such growing intensity that it was starting to block out the light of the Sun almost completely. It was growing gloomier down here until it was almost like the Sun was in the middle of setting, even though it was actually still high in the sky.

Spadamon felt that crawling sensation suddenly multiply on his back and he swung around, his hand flying to the hilt of the sword attached to his waist. But there was nothing he could see in the fog, though that meant nothing at this stage. The air was so gloomy and the fog was so thick that he could only really see two feet in front of him.

He swung back around and pressed on. "HELLLOO?" he yelled, a slight edge in his voice now. He felt like he was close to panicking, which he had never done before. "ANYONE? PLEASE COME ON! EVEN A COMPLETE STRANGER! CAN ANYONE JUAAARGH!"

Spadamon suddenly found himself falling and landed on his backside with a hard thud, gasping for air as it was driven out of him by the fall and he rolled down onto his back, chest heaving slightly and teeth gritted in pain. He looked up. He could barely make it out in the fog but it seemed the hill he had been standing on had ended rather abruptly because there was a large, stone, door set in it. He had not seen the top of that door and the drop over the edge in the fog and down he had plummeted.

He grunted as he pushed himself onto his backside again with some slight difficulty, but he felt his eyes being drawn back up to the door in the hill. He had thought he'd seen a couple of things like this before while he had been here, but this was the first time he'd gotten close to one. It was a basic looking thing – two stone pillars embedded in the hill beneath a stone crossbar and equally stone and thick looking slab set a little further in between them.

What else could it be but some kind of stone entry-way into the hill.

Spadamon climbed to his feet again and stared at the thing, biting his lip. He highly doubted anyone lived in the hill, but why would someone bother setting a giant door like that in it if it wasn't to live in.

As you can probably imagine, the concept of a tomb was completely unknown to Spadamon. When a Digimon's body died they burst into data particles and floated away to become a part of the Digital World until they were reformed by the Code Crown. There were no dead bodies in the Digital World, so they never had to make anything like a tomb for someone they lost.

So Spadamon didn't have a clue what this thing was for.

Spadamon suddenly reached for his sword and pulled it out of his sheath. When he realised he had done it, he blinked and wondered why he had, but then before he could really think about what he was doing he had stepped forwards and had jammed the top of the sword into the narrow gap at one side of the stone door. His eyes took on a glazed look and his face became mostly a blank mask, his brain not really thinking about anything as he pushed his little body against the sword and shoved against it, trying to use it like a lever to heave open the door.

Clenching his teeth together he pushed, his small feet digging into the dirt as he did so. The sword bent a little, almost as if it was going to snap against the heavy stone slab. For a second nothing seemed to happen, but then there was a heavy grinding noise as the slab moved sideways with a shower of dust, a crack opening in the side of the hill and Spadamon almost falling over with the sudden change.

He caught himself on one hand and straightened up, preparing to stick his sword back into the gap and try to widen it… but then he stopped. The door was only open a fraction but coming out of the thin gap he could see a faint greenish glow, illuminating a thin strip of the grass in front of him. And there was a sound. A sound coming from within like some… dismal chorus of eerie noises, like moans or wails that weren't moans or wails but like something else entirely – something which Spadamon could not name.

Spadamon blinked and looked down at his sword.

What the _hell_ was he doing?

What had he been thinking? He had just walked up to the stone door and pushed it open without even considering the implications. What the heck?

But as Spadamon looked down at his sword, he realised that he could only just remember doing the action itself. It was as if the fog that surrounded him had somehow managed to condense inside his mind for a moment, obscuring his thought processes and blurring his consciousness together into a dense mist and he had just stepped forward automatically and started to do it. He hadn't thought about it at all. He'd just done like some puppet following the directions of its puppeteer.

He shook his head, slamming the palm of his hand into the side of his head to clear it. It worked to some extent, and it seemed like the fog within his mind slowly faded away and he shivered. That had not been a pleasant experience and he shuddered again. This place was really beginning to get to him, he was sure of it.

He glanced back up at the door.

There were skeletal fingers protruding through the thin gap.

Spadamon yelled in horror, his breath torn from his throat at the sight as he staggered backwards in shock, tripping over his own tail and landing on his backside. His body went rigid, his muscles tensing up throughout all of his limbs as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away as the thin fingers that looked to only have the thinnest layer of skin possible over them grasped the edge of the stone door and slowly began to force it open, moving slowly and yet surely, as if the door weighed nothing whatsoever. Spadamon could hear it now. The rattling breathy noise and the whispering noises that seemed to be coming from all around him – similar to noises that he had been hearing ever since he had got here, but now much more intensified.

He mentally screamed at himself to run, to flee, to get the hell out of here and away from the thing, but his body refused to obey him, as if it had been commanded by some external force to stay put. He could only watch with terrible fascination, his hard jackhammering like a giant piston inside him, as the door was pushed open and… something… emerged.

Spadamon could barely see it at first, but a shape glided slowly through the half-gap and out into the open, another skeletal hand reaching out to pull it forwards. It was the size of an adult human and of similar shape, and seemed to be surrounded by the same ethereal greenish glow that had been emanating from the tomb itself. It was clad in a thick black cloak that seemed to waft around it of its own accord despite the fact there was no breeze, and although the fog and the darkness made it difficult to see, Spadamon thought he saw more skeletal skin in places beneath the cloak, and the slight glint of ancient, rusted armour.

But Spadamon could mostly see the eyes. They were like two miniature luminous lamps peering out of the shape where its face was, and Spadamon couldn't tell if they were set in a skull or a face that was so gaunt that it just looked like one.

Spadamon couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The creature just filled his entire world and it slowly bore towards him, wafting over the ground like a ghost towards him – did it even have legs? Spadamon couldn't tell.

And then a rattling, horrible, whispering voice emanated from somewhere in the hood.

"Ccooooommee wiitttthhh mmeeeeeee."

The figure reached out an emaciated hand towards him, fingers splayed like it was about to pick up an object. And suddenly Spadamon felt his own hand rising up towards it, as if to take the hand of the creature and allow himself to be guided wherever it led. His head swayed drunkenly for a moment as the thing approached him, looming over him like some waiflike phantom.

But as Spadamon began to get slowly to his feet, his foot brushed the tip of his fallen sword, which pricked it slightly and he winced. Instantly the spell was broken and Spadamon cried, "WHAT THE HELL!" and grabbed the sword, slashing wildly out at the creature's hand. The blade sliced into the creature's palm and it let loose a piercing shriek that froze the very marrow of Spadamon's bones, but he was not hanging around any longer. His mind clear of fog he turned and ran, sprinting away at the highest speed he could manage, determined to get away from the thing and away from this place once and for all.

There was a sound behind him and Spadamon turned around. He yelped and almost increased his speed, for though the dense fog obscured his view he could see the faint silhouette of the creature following him, making a sound like a slithering snake as it lurched forwards at a high speed, even though it didn't seem to be even touching the ground.

Fear pounded through Spadamon's very being, as he crashed on, breath ragged and coming out in little clouds that added to the fog as he darted left and dashed into the gap between two hills, certain that if he started trying to climb one, the creature would catch him. The apparition wheeled around the corner behind him, obscured practically entirely from view and as Spadamon looked back he almost whooped in relief, seeing that he was gaining ground on the horrible spectre, and it was disappearing further into the mist.

Maybe he would be alright after all.

As he turned back around though he almost went tumbling as he pulled to an instant stop and crashed onto his front – another spectral, wasted being had just emerged out of the fog right in front of him, reaching out for him with both hands. Spadamon scrambled backwards on his back and staggered back up to his feet, whirling around, only to see the first looming out of the haze towards him. Both of them had the same horrible eyes and indistinct shapes – there was no doubt that they were the same type of creature.

"GET AWAY!" Spadamon yelled, gripping his sword tightly and waving it wildly from side to side, daring the creatures to come any closer and hoping against hope that they would heed his warning. He had some skill with a sword, while these creatures appeared to be unarmed… although their fingers did seem to end in rather sharp points.

The two things stopped coming closer for a moment, staring at him blankly, their horrible rattling filling Spadamon's mind and chilling him to his very soul. They seemed to be regarding him curiously, as if not entirely sure what the make of the little Digimon.

"I warn you!" Spadamon twirled his sword expertly in his hand and twisted around to make sure both of them could see. "I have some skill with a blade. Come near me and I'll show you how much skill I have. I dare you!" All the while he was thinking, _Please go away. Please go away. Please go away._

The creatures stared at him a little longer… and then another noise permeated the fog – the sound of a another giant stone slab being pushed aside. Spadamon whirled around to face the noise and cursed – barely visible in the fog there was another door in the side of the hill that was slowly opening and another greenish glowing, luminous eyed thing was pushing itself out from within.

The other two creatures immediately began to close in on either side of him and Spadamon yelled in terror as they bore closer. Seizing his sword he cried, **"BLUE BRAVE!"** and slashed it through the air in the direction of the door and the emerging thing, whipping a bluish blade of energy out of the weapon that lashed out across the creature's front. A hideous spitting squealing noise ensued as a giant gash seemed to appear on its front, cutting through the cloak and it almost seemed to stumble backwards for a moment.

Spadamon grinned, thinking he'd be able to do this after all.

But moments later his eyes widened in horror as the creature twisted back around as if nothing had happened and bore down on him again.

Surrounded on three sides, Spadamon turned and fled up the hill on his only free side, the creatures picking up speed behind him and closing in. Spadamon practically bounced his way up the hill, trying to keep his speed up but his pursuers just kept coming as if the hill was no hindrance to them at all. The little Digimon reached the apex just as the first one reached him and slashed down at him with its vicious looking claws.

Spadamon sprang upwards and over the strike, cartwheeling backwards as best he could as it shot after him again and slashed down, forcing Spadamon to roll to the side as the claws sliced into the ground where he had been. Another shot in from the side and tried to seize him but Spadamon span around and hacked at the outstretched hands with his sword, slicing off a pair of gaunt fingers in a single swift stroke. The creature recoiled and Spadamon ducked past it and ran on, turning around and flinging another Blue Brave at the pair of them in an attempt to get them to back off.

The third suddenly loomed out of the fog right to Spadamon's right and let loose a penetrating moan as it sliced out with both clawed hands like they were a steel trap. Spadamon flung himself backwards down the hill, landing on his back and rolling backwards, head over tail and practically curling into a ball in a mad bid to put some distance between himself and the creatures. He quickly rolled back onto his feet once he reached the bottom and took off, the three things gliding down the hill towards him.

But Spadamon should have known better than to think there were just three. Another shape suddenly lurched around the corner of the hill in front of him and Spadamon had to fling himself into a cartwheel to avoid the furious swipe of its claws. The wraith-like thing whooshed after him, low to the ground and brought both claws up viciously. Spadamon brought his sword up and parried them aside and then brought his fist slamming up into the creature's face, right between its eyes.

The creature did not flinch under the attack to its head and Spadamon's knuckles were suddenly freezing cold. He stumbled backwards with a gasp, blinking as he suddenly felt quite dazed but was able to see another attack coming and quickly dashed on and away.

But he gasped in horror when he saw more of them. A lot of them. Looming out of the gloom and the fog all around him there were at least a dozen of them, all cloaked and obscured and covered in their greenish glow with their luminous eyes. They were swarming him, coming from all directions over the hills, their hideous rattling filling the air and permeating right through Spadamon's body.

"Stay back!" Spadamon yelled. "Get away! **BLUE BRAVE! BLUE BRAVE! BLUE BRAVE!"**

He dashed and dodged to and fro, slashing his sword furiously through the air to fling more and more energy blades out at the oncoming creatures, searching for a gap, for somewhere – anywhere – that he could try and get away. But the creature's seemed to be barely effected by his strikes, falling backwards each time they were hit but then just stepping forwards again, drawing closer in from all sides.

Not to mention Spadamon's hand was feeling a little numb and getting number from where he had punched one in the face. It was beginning to completely lose all feeling and stop moving, despite Spadamon's pounding heart.

He backflipped away from the strike of a creature that had gotten too close and span around, managing to slice the hand off another with a swift stroke of his blade, resulting in a hissing noise that rattled his whole body. But he kept moving, running hither and thither and yelling at the top of his voice to try and intimidate them but they just ignored him and carried on coming.

"Alright!" Spadamon cried. "I warned you! Now I'm going to go all out!" And his own body started to let off an ethereal looking glow of its own, many different rainbow-like colours filtering into the air around him. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the one with the missing hand and deciding he was the best shot, before he cried:-

"**AURORA BLAZER!"**

His body flashed with a brief light that made all the creatures flinch slight before he sprang forwards, his body coated in the bright colours and blazing forth energy as he put everything he could into the attack, slamming his shoulder right into the creature and slamming it backwards, plunging his sword right into its chest as he did so. Spadamon grinned as the creature let loose and unearthly squealing noise under the force of his attack and buckled, falling backwards and crashing to the ground with a soft 'whump.'

Protected by his blue armour as it was, Spadamon's shoulder did not go numb with the hit and he flipped over the top of the creature and dashed away. He was out of the horde, no longer surrounded. He could get away now. He could…

The creature that he had just attacked lashed out with an arm faster than a striking snake before he had got two paces and its remaining hand seized Spadamon by the tail in a grip that put any vice to shame. Spadamon yelled as his tail suddenly felt like it had been stuck in a pool of ice for days and he was yanked off its feet and pulled backwards, dropping his sword and his body weakening as the cold feeling began to seep away from his tail and spread towards the rest of his body, while the creature rose back into an upright position without even using its arms to push itself up, just rising up like the hand of a clock and pulling Spadamon backwards.

Spadamon thrashed and kicked but his body was beginning to go unresponsive again, his muscles stiffening, his mind going dead, his vision getting cloudier.

"Coooooommee wiiittthh ussssss," the rattling voice moaned again.

"No," Spadamon mumbled, his kicking now more like spasming as the creatures closed in around him and another of them reached down to his head. "Get away. Get… get…"

The creatures ignored his pleas.

That was when a loud and angry sounding battlecry ripped through the hills and something sprang out of the fog with brutal energy, falling upon the creatures with ruthless abandon. They shrieked and jerked backwards, moving away rapidly as the new figure slashed and hacked at them with a great longsword, while in its other hand it held a flaming torch that it swung into their bodies, lighting their cloaks if it came into contact with them.

Spadamon, barely conscious, looked up in astonishment. The figure looked like a human, and adult human with long, light brown hair and a long hooded cloak around his shoulders. And it was fighting with all the skill of a master swordsman.

"Back, creatures of Shadow," the human roared as it slashed another one of them across the chest with his sword and slammed the flaming torch right into its face before he swung around, ducking under the strike of another's claws and swinging up sword and torch simultaneously to cleave it under the armpit and set its own ragged cloak alight. The flaming creatures wailed and thrashed around, and Spadamon could now make out enough of them to see that most of them were about half-skeleton and half fleshed for the most part.

The creatures all fell back before him, all of them drawing away from the individuals who were on fire and holding their hands before their faces like shields. But they still did not fall beneath the Man's sword and those who were on fire were beginning to put themselves out. The Man growled to himself and dashed back, tossing his torch into his other hand with the sword and scooping Spadamon up, as well as his fallen sword, before breaking into a full-pelted run faster than Spadamon could ever hope to accomplish.

"Who… who…?" Spadamon muttered.

"I heard your yelling and came to investigate," the Man said. "Whoever and whatever you are, you're lucky I was in the area. Those Barrow-wights can't be killed by anything except light. Fire works to hold them off for a bit but it's the Sun that's really works on them."

The creatures, the Barrow-wights, seemed to be about to give chase but they were mostly ambush creatures that manipulated the minds of the unwary, not full-on fighters and it was clear the Man was a match for them. And none of them wanted to risk being hit by the torch again so after a short time, they gave up. But the Man kept running regardless, over hill and around hill, never believing that there weren't anymore of them around until he could get out of the gloomy fog and back into the sunlight.

"Who… are you?" Spadamon muttered, his eyes rolling as his head lolled back, still foggy and numb from the effect of the Wights touch.

"I am Halbarad," the Man said. "Dúnedain Ranger of the North. And who exactly are you?"

"Spadamon," he muttered in reply. "I'm a… a Digimon."

And his head rolled back as he succumbed to unconsciousness.

The Man, Halbarad grimaced. He would be fine in time but the Wights touch was nasty and would take several hours to wear off, which was all the time the Wights would normally need to drag you back into their tombs so that they could finish you off like some kind of sacrifice.

It was thankful for this creature that he had been in this accursed land to hear his plight.

Halbarad ploughed on, determined to escape the Barrow downs and leave the land of the Wights behind. He didn't know what in the name of Middle Earth he had just rescued but he sure as heck had not been about to leave him behind in the clutches of the Wights and he would not leave him now.

Still, he couldn't wait to get some answers when it finally woke up.

* * *

Geehee. Originally I was not planning to put the Dwarves from the Hobbit into this chapter. In fact in my original plan I had not even considered them for roles at all even though the Dwarves of Erebor was always going to feature. Of course I ended up kicking myself when I realised that, especially after I went to see the first Hobbit film, which I loved to bits – it was epic! So here, they are, making their debut, and the rest of the Dwarves that survive to the time of Lord of the Rings will also feature in the future.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hoped the Barrow-wights creeped you out because they were meant to. Until next time. Hehehe.

* * *

Next time…

Injured, cold and weary, a certain cat princess is currently feeling miserable. One of her two companions is held prisoner and she doesn't even know it, while the other is searching for her seemingly to no avail. Will things be looking up for Bastemon in the near future?

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Coming up:- **Chapter 25 : Bastemon Alone**


	25. Bastemon Alone

Hullo everybody. Here I am again with the latest instalment of this story. Not much else to say than that really except that I know that compared to some of the other characters the ones that are featuring in this chapter have been getting rather a lot of attention, but they have their own storyline which needs to be set in motion after all so here they are once again. I hope that you enjoy reading the chapter. Not an action chapter again but still, hopefully you'll find it interesting.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 25:- Bastemon Alone**

* * *

Bastemon was cold. She was wet. She was miserable. She was tired. She was in pain. You come up with a negative adjective and more than likely Bastemon could be described with it at this point. Never before had she had such a horrible night in all her life.

She hadn't slept at all, which was a first for her. Normally she was out like a light that had had the wire cut and the bulb smashed whenever night set in and wouldn't be woken up until sometime around midday unless something was wrong. But this time she had not been able to nod off at all, not even dozing, and right now she was wishing that she could just disappear into the realm of her dreams. Her dreams were always pleasant.

Her reality right now, on the other hand, was anything but pleasant.

She was utterly bedraggled and well aware that she was lucky to even be alive right now. Her fur seemed to be clogged with the water from the river, and her large leopard-patterned leggings squelched whenever she shifted, making it seem like they had absorbed half the river. She had lost her tail-rings somewhere in the water and who knew if she would ever see them again. Her ears were practically drooping over her face as if they too were weighed down by water and her long red hair was a complete mess, spattered with large clods of mud that made it look like some kind of patchwork and not to mention all over the place.

But of course the arrow in her shoulder was worse than all of that. The shaft had long since snapped in half, leaving a splintered fragment of wood sticking out from her skin that looked like it would split down the middle at any moment itself. Bastemon couldn't tell how deep the arrowhead had gone in, but her shoulder ached fiercely when she kept it still, panging every now and again. But whenever she moved or she reached up to touch the arrow shaft experimentally, her shoulder was met with a sudden, _searing_ pain, as if another arrow had just been plunged manually into it every single time.

And considering she had fallen down a waterfall and plunged into a pool, it was a flaming miracle that she hadn't broken her bones or claws or teeth, let alone drowned. It was almost as though she had got off lightly, but it didn't feel that way.

But what was probably the worst thing for her was not the wet and the cold, and not the arrow either. It was her emotions. They were all horribly jumbled up at the moment and here she was, curled up in a bush a short way away from the river, downright distraught.

Because she felt completely and utterly useless.

The things that Greymon had said to her yesterday – about how she expected everyone around her to look after her and to do things her way, how she never pitched in to anything that Xros Heart did and how she just lay down and slept the problems away while everyone else was trying their hardest to sort them out – they were all true. She knew that now. She'd never thought about the way she was behaving before – she always just took everything for granted.

And now here she was, completely alone, undefended and injured and she had no idea what to do next. She should know what to do. She should know the best course of action to take. But did she? No, she didn't have a clue, because her entire life had revolved around being pampered when she was awake and spending the rest of her time dreaming.

She was a member of an army that didn't need her. If this had happened to Shoutmon or just about any of the other members of the group, they would know what to do now, but Bastemon had never bothered to learn and now she'd been thrust into the lessons the hard way.

And then there was what had happened back there, when she and Greymon had been attacked by the unseen archers. What had she done then? She had cowered on Greymon's back, whimpering and clinging on her dear life, while Greymon had been storming around trying to find their assailants, before running off in an attempt to get her to safety, trying as hard as he possibly could to protect her even despite how angry he had been at her before and all the things he thought about her not being a true team member.

Greymon had been hit by countless arrows and smashed in the side and in the foot by massive boulders flung from mobile trebuchets, wounds far more substantial than the ones that Bastemon had received, and he had fought on, refusing to give up, trying as hard as he possibly could to save her while she had just been washed away in the current of the river, floundering around helplessly.

Bastemon whimpered to herself and curled up into a tighter ball. She was _pathetic._ She had no right to even be a member of Xros Heart. Xros Heart stood for courage and fortitude and protecting the innocent or anyone who needed their aid. Bastemon had none of that. Not even slightly.

She felt like a waste of space.

She felt like a failure.

She felt like anything but a noble princess at this point.

She swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision and adding more water to her already sopping body – she had been out of the river for hours but the lack of sun getting into the bush she was curled in ensured she was still soaked.

What was Greymon doing right now? And what had happened to Revolmon? They had never found him again after he had gone scouting?

Doing his own part for the army and helping to look after the expectant princess.

Bastemon gritted her teeth and buried her face in her arm. Maybe they would all just be better off without her.

* * *

To answer Bastemon's first question, Greymon was wandering through the woodlands, in what had so far been a totally fruitless search for the princess. He had not got nearly as far as he would have hoped at this point. He was a powerful Digimon and was not tired, even now, but he had been finding walking difficult all night. The foot that had been slammed by the giant boulder pained him, lancing vicious spikes of agony up his leg every single time he put it on the ground.

In the adrenaline and the heat of the battle when he had been hit and had continued chasing after Bastemon he had barely noticed the pain and completely ignored it, running as if nothing had happened. Now, he was very aware of it, and he was actually limping. Greymon had never had cause to limp before in his life, not even after the ground had caved beneath him in the Disc Zone and he had plummeted into the darkness. He had come out of that fine, and here he was now staggering through a forest with only one good leg.

In the darkness of the night he had been eventually forced to stop and rest – he could see nothing and the smell of Bastemon had been washed away by the river. Assuming she had been there – he didn't even know if she had been washed down the river at all; she could have died in the fall or drowned at the bottom of the pool and burst into data for all he knew. The river was the only hope he had left of finding her.

Nevertheless, despite his worry for the princess he could not go on in the night like this. His night vision was not brilliant – better than a human's but not but vast amounts – and even if his foot was healthy he could just step past some vital clue in the darkness and not see it. He could even walk right past her unconscious body, lying half in and half out of the river, and keep on going without the slightest idea that he had missed her, while she lay there possibly dying.

Which would probably be what she was doing now if she was still alive, assuming she wasn't still being washed down the river.

Greymon could not banish the thought from his mind, but he had little choice but to stop and rest. He found a reasonably comfortable spot and lay back on his haunches, a pose that looked utterly ridiculous for a giant dinosaur, especially since he was trying to stretch his injured foot out so he could rest it. Then he spent the next couple of hours reaching around to either side of his body with his head and tail, to the best of his ability, and pulling out any arrows that he could find, of which there were a _lot_.

It was not pleasant. At all. His skin was tough enough to mean that most of the arrows that had not bounced off or merely grazed him had not gone very far in, and they were relatively easy to pull out with his teeth if he could reach them. And there were others that were much deeper, but if he could reach them as well with his teeth then he could pull them out relatively easily too. To him, unlike to Bastemon, they were mere pinpricks.

But the bigger problem was the fact that Greymon could only reach around with his mouth to his legs and tail and his back end. His neck wasn't long enough to allow him to pull out the arrows around his shoulders and upper torso, as well as the few that were in his neck itself and while he was able to pull a few out from his sides with his hands, he could not reach them all. He had to get those out another way.

And unfortunately that other way involved digging them out with the spike on the end of his tail.

As previously stated; not pleasant. But fortunately it wasn't so bad for most of them since they did not go in that deep.

It was at times like this that Greymon wished he had longer arms.

But once he had determined he was free of arrows Greymon had passed into a rather restless sleep leaned against a pile of boulders with his foot outstretched and his bruised side exposed to the air.

Digimon healed fast, so when dawn broke and Greymon immediately pushed himself back onto his feet most of the arrow wounds had already gone from his body, though he still had a few scars here and there that were still clearing up. His foot was doing better as well, but not by as much as he would have liked. He grunted to himself as he tested it out. Pain shot up his leg again, but it wasn't as intense as it had been the previous day.

"I can live with it," he muttered to himself, before looking up and down the river course. "Princess, you better be out there somewhere. Don't you dare go dying on me! Not before you understand I'm sorry."

And he limped on down the stream, covering more ground than the previous day. But before he'd gone far he stopped and turned to look back the way he had come, the waterfall having long faded into the distance and the strange attackers with it. But now he was wondering what had become of the third member of their travelling party – Revolmon. In his rush to find the princess again he had, admittedly, not thought much about what had become of the treasure hunter.

He was sure that he would be fine though – he could look after himself better than Bastemon could, and Greymon knew it was better to focus on finding someone who he knew to be injured to someone who could well be perfectly fine.

He pressed on downstream, searching for any sign of the missing princess, or any other form of intelligent life – preferably one that would not attack him when they saw him.

* * *

Revolmon himself was not a happy bunny either. None of them seemed to be at this stage, but the Men who had him held captive had been keeping a close watch on him during the night, never letting their eyes stray from his back for a moment as they held swords and arrows at the ready, just in case he turned around. None of them wanted the barrel of his chest gun pointed their way now that they knew what it was capable of.

Revolmon had been able to get some sleep during the night, but he was worried about Bastemon, just like Greymon. Knowing Greymon himself was still alive was a relief, but Faramir has said that they had "lost sight" of Bastemon during the battle.

And his mind kept flashing back to the shadow that had fallen past the gap in the cave wall. The shadow that had been around Bastemon's size.

Of course, he'd had no proof of this, but according to the others Greymon had descended down the cliff and moved straight into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall and then started to make his way downriver. Why in the world would he do that unless he was worried that Bastemon had fallen over the side?

But Revolmon had no proof beyond that. And it was driving him _mental_. Absolutely mad and his brain tortured with the same mental images that had run through Greymon's mind.

Since last night he had been moved into a smaller storage room, where a large open possible escape route was not present. The stone walls around him pressed him in, and the shelves that lined them even more so, while the Rangers stood behind him and made sure he was still facing the wall, on his knees and his hands still secured behind him. Still, Revolmon was pretty sure that if he tried he could whirl around and take them out with his body-gun, but that was not the way that Xros Heart did things to people like these Men, who thought they were just protecting their home and were so incredibly wrong about it.

So he just sat there in mental anguish, and waited for his next visit from Faramir.

That visit came sometime around mid-morning, when the young Captain stepped into the room, nodding to the two Rangers standing there and stepping past them to look down at Revolmon's kneeling form.

"Come to ask me how my night was?" Revolmon asked, pre-empting anything that Faramir had been about to say. "Because I can tell you now that I have had _much_ better nights."

"No, I would not be so crass as that," Faramir said, pulling a barrel away from one of the shelves and sitting on it. "I wish to speak with you further… Digimon, was it that you called yourself."

"That's the name of my species yes," Revolmon nodded, turning his head around as best he could. "But my name itself is Revolmon."

"Very well, I shall refer to you by that name," Faramir nodded.

"It's the only name I've got so… good idea," Revolmon nodded. "Now what have you got to tell me about my friends?"

Faramir hesitated, before he sighed and said, "There has still been no sign of the cat-woman. We're not entirely sure what happened to her during the battle."

"I think I could probably figure it out," Revolmon muttered dully.

"And as to your two-legged dragon friend, it would appear that it is still moving down the river and away from this area. I don't think that it knew that you were here after all."

"Perhaps he just has other things on his mind," Revolmon replied. "Such as the location of the cat princess."

"I have heard tales of dragons capturing maidens and taking them back to their lairs with them," Faramir voiced. "Is that the case here with the cat-woman?"

Revolmon laughed out loud, something he hadn't done for a while now. "Oh, be serious! Greymon capturing a maiden? He'd rescue a maiden long before he would ever think about capturing one. And also, he's _not_ a dragon. When are you going to stop calling him something that he is not? I've already told you many times that he's not a dragon and that he's not a threat. Not to you, not to anyone that does not a) attack him, b) attack his friends and c) try to take over the world or hurt innocent people. And because you didn't listen to me, Bastemon could be dead!"

Faramir stared at Revolmon, whose voice had gotten increasingly angry during that small speech, and he saw him slump down now, yellow eyes screwed shut, and if he had any teeth he would probably be gritting them right about now.

The Captain of Gondor felt uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands a little, before he said, "You care about the both of them, don't you?"

"What gave me away?" Revolmon sighed.

"Your distress at the thought that one of them might be dead for one thing," Faramir began, not catching the sarcasm.

"Of course I'm distressed at that thought. They were… are… my friends. My comrades, and my brothers in arms. I've fought beside them before, against armies where we were vastly outnumbered, and we are the rest of our friends have always stuck together. That's what we Digimon do."

"Well, I'll say this for you," Faramir murmured. "You are not like any minion of Sauron I have ever seen before."

"I take that as a high compliment, especially since none of us were minions of this Sauron guy you keep mentioning. I told you that too."

Faramir nodded silently to himself, turning his eyes away for a moment and focusing on a loaf of bread sitting on a nearby wooden shelf for a few seconds. "I know," he said after a moment. "I know that you told me. But you must understand that I only have your word to go on that anything you say is true. And for what it's worth… I am sorry. Now I really don't know what to think. None of the stories I've heard about dragons…" he paused. "…Or things that look like them, ever held anything good for the people the dragons encountered."

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Revolmon replied.

"An interesting phrase," Faramir nodded. "And… perhaps an apt one in this case."

Revolmon sighed. "I accept your apology," he said, a moment later. "But it's not me that you should be apologising to for this – it's Greymon. And Bastemon. She's just an innocent Digimon princess that has never had to act independently in her life and now… she may be dead. Killed by your men. How the heck am I supposed to explain that to Knightmon the next time I see him?"

"Knightmon?" Faramir frowned. "I presume that he's… another Digimon?"

"Well yes," Revolmon nodded. "We got separated from most of the rest of our company. Who can say where Knightmon is now? Or any of the others?"

Faramir regarded the kneeling Digimon for a moment before he turned to the other Rangers and said, "Please leave us for a while. I would like to discuss some things with the prisoner alone for a bit."

"But sir…" one of the two Rangers protested.

"Do not fear," Faramir replied. "I am having a lot of things being called into question in my mind at the moment and I want to discuss them with this Digimon alone. Stay outside until I call you back in.

"Yes, Captain Faramir," nodded the two men together and they turned a filed out of the room, closing the wooden door behind them. Faramir then turned to Revolmon again, and the Digimon looked up at him, shifting around so that he would have been facing Faramir if the Ranger Captain had not drawn his sword and held it against the barrel of Revolmon's body-gun to prevent him from going the whole distance.

"I would rather you didn't point that thing at me," he said. "I am giving you the benefit of the doubt here by ordering my men out of the room like that but I still do not completely trust you. Keep that… gun… off to the side, if you please."

"Fair enough," Revolmon nodded, sitting side-on and turning his head to look at Faramir directly. "Can we at least get these ropes off?"

"One step at a time," Faramir replied, lowering his sword so the tip was resting against the ground but not putting it away. "Now… you say one of your friend's names is Knightmon, yes?"

"Indeed," Revolmon nodded.

"Is the 'knight' in his name a reference to something? Is it 'night' as in the darkness that comes after day or is it 'knight' as in the warrior."

"The warrior," clarified Revolmon.

"And the 'mon?' What does that stand for? Every one of your friends thus far have had names that ended in that syllable."

"It's short for 'monster.' We're not really monsters in the sense of the giant, terrifying beasts that think of nothing but destruction, but we are monsters as in we all come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Digimon names usually do mean something. Revolmon is short for the Revolver Monster, and the Revolver is another name for this type of gun that I wield – they come in many varieties, you see. And Knightmon is, as his name suggests – the Knight Monster."

"Knights are not something that I associated with the kind of people or creatures that would ally with Sauron," Faramir observed. "A true Knight is a noble warrior that fights for justice, honour and freedom."

"Well that describes Knightmon to a T. And most of the rest of us to be honest. And you and your men may have caused the death of Knightmon's charge, Princess Bastemon."

"And what does her name stand for?"

"I believe it has something to do with an ancient mythical goddess of cats that nobody really believes in anymore," Revolmon shrugged. "At least that's what Wisemon told me, and I bet I don't need you to tell me about his name."

"Indeed not," Faramir agreed. "You know, you are unusual, Revolmon. You are your words are… puzzling in the extreme."

"Glad to hear I'm entertaining at least," Revolmon responded dryly.

"And your mannerisms…" Faramir went on. "Nothing like someone that would ally with Sauron. Not willingly anyway. And you don't strike me as the type to cave in to threats or be taken in by lies."

"Are you saying you're beginning to see sense and that you believe I'm not a minion of this Sauron guy?"

"I am saying that I do not know what I believe at this point. But based on what I have seen of your personality, you are either telling the truth or you are an exceptional liar. I do not yet know what side of that I believe you are, but if what you say is true and you do consort with men like Knights, then I am willing to believe I may have misjudged you. However, your unusual and unknown form and the company you keep with a… Dragon that isn't a Dragon… I have to be sure. For the sake of my men, my home and my people. Do you understand that?"

"I do," nodded Revolmon. "I'm sure there's a lot at stake at the moment if anything I've gleaned about this world is accurate. But that doesn't change the fact you attacked Greymon and Bastemon, although I do understand why you did it."

"I know, and if it turns out I was wrong about you and we did cause the death of your friend then I will take full responsibility for it," Faramir nodded. "But I must be sure. Absolutely sure. So… I want you to tell me everything. Everything you can about you, your race, your friends… No more games, no more withheld answers. I will take in what I hear and make my final decision later about whether I believe you can be trusted or not, but I swear I will have an open mind, as long as you continue to understand the many pressures and concerns that I have to look to."

Revolmon paused for a moment, regarding Faramir coolly for a moment. "Alright," he said, slowly. "I'll be honest with you. I'll answer your questions. But only if you swear, in turn, not to tell anyone who might try and use this information for ill intent."

"Naturally. I had no plans on doing that anyway," Faramir nodded sincerely.

"Alright then. But I warn you now; a lot of what I have to say will probably sound like drivel to you, because I'm betting that if you've never heard of a gun then you've never heard of a computer either."

"A what?"

"Exactly…" Revolmon sighed. "Well… here goes nothing."

* * *

Midday was drawing on when Bastemon finally managed to push herself to her feet. She winced and gripped her panging arm with her long bejewelled claws from her other hand, but wished she hadn't a moment later because that just made it hurt worse. She was still wet, the shade of the bush depriving her of much sunlight, and she shivered slightly as she looked up at it, blazing down on the forest landscape around her. She coughed up a few more droplets of water and stumbled down towards the shore of the river.

This river had taken her down to this point. Bastemon had no idea how far she had been washed down its course since she had fallen over the waterfall. She could remember almost nothing of the floating journey, such details as the width and speed of the river at certain points lost on her. But she did know one thing:-

The opposite direction to the way the river was flowing, would be the rough direction that Greymon was. She might have been a pampered airhead, but she did have a brain and she could use it.

She could only hope that Greymon was looking for her. She sniffed to herself at the thought – why would Greymon even want to come after her. She was just a spoiled child of a Digimon, no use to anyone.

But she swallowed that thought as quickly as she could. Greymon wouldn't leave her, no matter what their differences were. He was just as much a member of Xros Heart as anyone, and they didn't leave people behind. He would be looking for her.

But what if he thought she was dead? Would he be looking for her then?

And what about those attacking people with the arrows. Would they come back? She already had one arrow that she couldn't touch without it causing severe pain in her. She didn't want another.

"Come on, Bastemon," she muttered to herself. "You can do this. You can do this. You need help. You're… you're not going to survive out here on your own because… you never tried to learn. Get moving."

Talking to herself seemed a bit of a comfort, but the silence that came back when she stopped seemed to press in on her a little. But she ignored it to the best of her ability, stumbling away and along the back, holding her injured arm as still as she possibly could as she tottered unsteadily forwards, walking against the course of the river and back up the way she had come.

It was slow progress for her. She was hungry, she was incredibly tired – having gone without sleep for far longer than she ever had before as well as the exertion of the ordeal she had just been through, – she was also quite thirsty, but she could barely bring herself to look at the river at the moment, let alone drink from it. It sounded stupid even to her but that river had taken her all the way down here, away from her friends, and after being nearly drowned in it she was hesitant to even touch the flowing water with the tip of a claw.

She just focused on the walking ahead.

She made very slow progress, tripping over just about every rock that got in her way and forcing her to stagger to a halt and collect herself again before she shuffled onwards. Her shoulder sent spikes of pain into her system every time that it shifted even a little, which was unfortunately a lot even though she tried hard to hold her arm still, and every time it did she stumbled yet again. At one point, she fell over completely and she automatically threw out her arms to catch herself and instantly regretted it.

But nevertheless she pressed on, walking and walking and trudging and tripping for a good two hours in the head of the Sun, leaving a dusty trail behind her and seeking shade whenever she could. Still she did nothing to quench her thirst and the Sun seemed to grow ever more merciless as it climbed its way higher into the air, meaning the princess had to stop and rest in the shade whenever she could.

Her stomach grumbled and as clutched it tightly for a moment, whimpering. She hadn't come across so much as a berry tree so far.

Nevertheless, she could be commended for her feat, fighting on up the river at her shambling pace and generally sticking it out as best she could. She felt unbelievably tired, and by this point under normal circumstances she would have keeled over and gone to sleep about a dozen times so far.

But there was a very slight fire in her belly at the moment, determined to push herself on and find Greymon. Then, maybe then, she could actually prove something both to him and to herself. Prove that she was capable of doing things besides sleeping and letting other people wait on her hand and foot.

Still, her weariness began to tell, and after a while she began to flag, getting slower the further she walked, until even after she had just got up from the shade she was gasping for breath within about ten paces, her feet aching like hell. This might have been the furthest she had ever actually walked on her own so far – the longest walks she'd ever really done before was from one end of the castle to the other before.

Eventually her head began pounding almost as much as her shoulder, severely dehydrated as she was, her throat seemed to be devoid of all moisture, her heart hammering, and worst of all her vision was beginning to blur. She took a moment to pause and collect herself, trying to clear her head, but two steps after she had pressed on again everything went straight back to being fuzzy. She felt faint, as if her head was clearing of all matter, her eyes rolling up into her head and suddenly she collapsed, falling down onto one knee, chest heaving as she gulped in air.

"What am I doing?" she croaked to herself. "Just get the water." And just saying these words brought on a bout of coughing that wracked her body and stirred up the sand in front of her that made her think, for one alarming moment, that her lungs had gone so dry she was coughing the sand up from there. To faint to stand back up again she crawled towards the river, wincing with every inch that she moved as she struggled towards the water surface.

Another wave of dizziness hit her and she slumped towards the ground, her claws inches from the water. But as her tongue, dry as a bone, lapped at thin air still a fair distance from the water surface, and her vision began to darken and black out, she saw, blurred and distorted, something moving slowly towards her to stand over her. Something tall and thin – humanoid in shape.

But before she could make out any further detail, her world went utterly dark and she passed out.

* * *

The first thing she became aware of after that was a faint trickling noise, as well as a sensation of something cool running over her tongue and down into her throat. Her nose wrinkled blearily, her tongue stretching out and trying to get more of the soothing sensation, which promptly came in a greater amount.

"Lie still, whatever you are," said a rich voice above her. "You are in a bad way. Let me help you."

"Ngh," Bastemon said, unable to really muster anything more than that as she opened her eyes and blinked several times, trying to regain some focus. She saw a large waterskin hanging in front of her face, the neck of which was hovering just over her mouth and being gently tipped out, allowing trickles of water to pass over her tongue and down into her mouth.

"Wa…water," she moaned lightly, her mouth feeling dusty as she reached up with her long-clawed hands and tried to grasp the waterskin. The figure hovering over her, which she could not yet make out through the blur of her mind and eyes, flinched backwards as she did so, but steadied itself, allowing her to grab the waterskin herself and tip it up further, gulping down the reserves of cool, clean and fresh water down her neck, feeling her strength being invigorated from that alone.

Bastemon drained the entire waterskin in a few moments and the figure gently took it back from her. "Goodness," she said. "You were thirsty. And to pass out so close to a river as well – that seemed almost cruel. I will go and refill the waterskin."

Bastemon grunted and tried to say thank you but hiccupped instead as the blur of the figure retreated. She blinked a few more times, trying to clear her head further. She was lying some distance away from the bank, on her back and propped up against a large boulder, her legs and feet stretching out in front of her. She winced as her shoulder panged, reaching over unconsciously to hold it steady, and opening her eyes further, trying to focus on the figure now crouching beside the running water.

At first all she could see of the person was their back, which had long pitch-black hair flowing down it and was adorned with what appeared to be a long, flowing garment, tipped with white and patterned with yellow rings against brown and surrounded by red. As the figure straightened out and turned around Bastemon's eyes widened slightly.

A human?

The figure was clearly a human female – an adult woman with a large and tall red hat perched over her hair, a large golden neck adornment, and her robes had a red chest section and a blue abdomen section decorated in white stars above blue leggings and red shoes. And the figure's skin was a rich dark brown colour, darker than Bastemon's own tan skin and something she hadn't seen in a human before – though admittedly her experience with humans was limited only to the six children that had come to her world.

The woman stepped over to her and handed her the waterskin again, which Bastemon took with fumbling fingers and brought it to her still dry lips once again. "You look like you've gone through… a rough spot," the woman observed, kneeling down beside her.

"You can… say that… again," Bastemon muttered, between gulps.

"You speak the Common Tongue," the woman noted. "That's interesting. I didn't know if you would be able to speak at all considering you're… well… you look a lot like a cat if you don't mind my saying."

"Am… a cat," Bastemon murmured, tipping the waterskin back greedily.

"Wow, you're demolishing that," the woman observed. "Steady now, make sure you savour it. And then, you can tell me who and what you are? I don't believe I've come across or heard mention of your kind before. Cat people are you?"

"No, I'm… I'm a Digimon," Bastemon replied, taking another gulp from the waterskin. She lowered it a moment later, water dribbling down her chin, which she normally would be quite prissy about but right now she didn't care. She stared at the human woman in front of her for a moment and then murmured, "You saved me."

"I don't know about that. I'm sure you would have regained consciousness on your own eventually and managed to get to the water yourself. But I saw your plight and how much you were struggling and I felt the need to investigate. Once I saw what a terrible state you were in I decided to help."

"Thank you," Bastemon murmured. "So much. I… I don't know why I didn't go to the river sooner… I'm looking for my friends… I got separated from them."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are they cat-people, like you?"

"No, they're Digimon, like me," Bastemon sniffed, taking another gulp from the waterskin. "Can't thank you enough for helping me though. My name is Bastemon. What's your name?"

The woman hesitated for a moment, eyeing Bastemon as if wondering if she could trust her or not before she said, "I'm Saleme. You're fortunate that I was passing through the area, otherwise you might have been lying there in the Sun for quite some time. I heard the sound of something falling over, so I went to investigate. I don't think I could ever have imagined setting eyes on something like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?" Bastemon yawned. "Where am I?"

"You don't know?"

"Not really. You're the first talking person I've seen from around here that hasn't shot at me."

"Yes, I can see you've had a run-in with someone," Saleme's eyes locked on the arrow still embedded in Bastemon's shoulder. "You might want to get that looked at."

"I can't… it hurts… and Greymon told me to leave it there until we could find a way of treating it and… I don't know what to do."

"Well, fortunately for you, I happen to have some skill at healing," Saleme nodded. "Not much mind you, at least not compared to a professional, but I can treat battle wounds like this with no problem. If you will allow me."

"Oh thank you," Bastemon nodded, gritting her teeth as her shoulder panged at her again. "Please… you have to do something. It hurts…"

"I can see that. Hold still," Saleme knelt down beside her while Bastemon poured some more water onto her tongue. Saleme's hands reached up to carefully press certain points around the wound, drawing various degrees of a painful reaction from Bastemon until she carefully took hold of the shoulder and held it steady, examining the wound with a critical eye.

"Looks like it's been in there for some time," she observed.

"It hit me some point yesterday," Bastemon said.

"So I guessed," Saleme nodded, reaching into a small bag that was placed next to the boulder and pulling out a few things. She then stood up and began to sweep around in the nearby vegetation, kneeling down every so often and pulling up a herb or two, as well as some fallen leaves, before returning to Bastemon's side and mixing some of the herbs together in a little earthenware pot she'd pulled from the bag.

"Alright then," she said, removing a piece of cloth form the bag and holding it up before Bastemon's face. "Put this in your mouth and bite down on it."

"Why?" Bastemon recoiled a little, the idea of her putting something like that inside her mouth far from pleasant.

"Because this is going to hurt a little," replied Saleme. "And there's nothing I can do about it, but if you bite down on this, it will give you something else to concentrate on. Trust me on this okay? I know what I am doing."

"O…okay," Bastemon nodded. "Just… make it quick. It really hurts."

"Not surprising," Saleme nodded as Bastemon opened her mouth and she stuffed the cloth inside, filling her jaws up as much she could. Then she gently applied some of the poultice she had created around the sides of the wound and took a hold of the arrow shaft that remind, careful not to splinter it any more than it already had been. Bastemon flinched and bit down on the cloth, finding that it did help a little to focus her attention away from her shoulder.

"Alright then, I'm going to pull it out on three," Saleme said softly. "Ready?"

Bastemon nodded.

Saleme yanked the arrow straight out of her shoulder before she had even finished the motion. Bastemon let loose an incredibly high-pitched scream of agony the sound muffled by the cloth in her mouth, otherwise it would have probably been heard for miles.

Saleme immediately applied more of the poultice to the now open wound, pulling out a couple of extra arrow splinters as best as she could while doing so, before applying the leaves, coated with a little mud to form a plaster and then fishing out a roll of bandage from her bag and wrapping that around Bastemon's shoulder swiftly but efficiently, while the cat princess spat that cloth out of her mouth and lay there panting.

"Why… why did you do that?" she whimpered, pain wracking her arm and throbbing around the wound site.

"Pull it out early?" Saleme said. "Old trick. Thought you might have been expecting that. If I had counted to three and pulled you would have unconsciously tensed your body and made the pain even worse and the job harder so I lied to get you to relax and took you off guard. And the cloth, in case you're wondering, was to stop you from damaging your own teeth by clenching them together when I pulled it out. I've seen some pretty horrible things happen if precautions like that aren't taken." She picked up the cloth and inspected it as finished applying the bandage. "Wow, your teeth are sharp. I'm going to need to fix these holes."

"I…thank you…" Bastemon gritted her teeth and tried to move her arm, but another pang of pain put paid to that thought.

"I would not recommend you do that just yet," Saleme cautioned her, placing a steadying hand on her arm. "That wound it still raw and it could still get infected if you're not careful. Leaving the arrow in was a wise decision until you could put treatment on it to stop that infection but still you can never be too careful with this kind of thing."

"Okay… thanks," Bastemon nodded.

"You intrigue me," Saleme said, sitting down beside Bastemon and looking her up and down. "You're most unusual, and I would quite like to know more about what it is that I have just helped to save, if that would not be too much trouble. Then maybe I can help you find your friend."

"Okay but first… tell me… where am I? I did ask you before, but you didn't answer me."

"Ah yes, my apologies," nodded Saleme. "Well, you are in Northern Ithilien, province of the Kingdom of Gondor. Does that help?"

"No… not really," Bastemon groaned, her head lolling backwards as her shoulder throbbed. "But… you're saying that this is not…the Digital World? The Digital World… doesn't have humans in it."

"Pardon?" Saleme asked. "I'm afraid I did not understand that."

"I was… hoping… you would… Now what are… meant… to…" Bastemon's head lolled forwards and her eyes closed, her long exhaustion from her period in pain and her staggering walk up the bank finally telling, and with the arrow out of her shoulder there was nothing left except a dull ache to keep her awake thanks to the poultice that Saleme applied. She fell into a fitful sleep, as she should have done many, many hours ago.

Saleme regarded the Digimon with interest, wondering what in the world she was going to do about this.

* * *

Greymon was making some slightly better progress now, his leg having healed up a little further, though it probably would have been faster if he was not forcing himself to use the thing. He was still following the course of the river, keeping eye and nose out for Bastemon. Twice now he had found something that looked like it could have been something human adult sized moving about on the bank and followed it a short way, but neither time had he smelt Bastemon and neither time had he come up with any results.

"Come on, princess," he growled to himself. "Be somewhere ahead. Don't go giving up your life just after the things I said to you, you hear?"

Bastemon, of course, did not hear, but Greymon merely grunted in acknowledgement to himself and pressed on. He had come to a rather irritating part of the river, which flowed into what was temporarily something like a deep ravine with high walls on all sides, as it this had somehow been a hill. The banks was strewn with very large boulders on both side so Greymon was forced to bypass them, heading away from the bank of the river for a short time as he tried to rejoin the river of the other side of the ravine as quickly as possible, hoping that Bastemon was not anywhere within the ravine.

As he plodded along, dragging his foot slightly so he left shallow grooves in the ground with his toes whenever he moved it, he heard something snap beneath him and he paused, slightly alarmed. For a moment he had thought that was his foot cracking, but there was no extra pain and everything seemed fine with it. Still capable of moving even all the individual toes.

Greymon looked up, glancing around him with narrowed eyes, his nose up and sniffing the air. He could smell something – something a little like the humans Generals had smelt but a little bit different. It was an old scent, possibly over a month old or even longer, but it was in very large amounts in this area. There had once been a lot of activity here at some point but for what reason?

And why should it be a concern of Greymon's? He had a princess to find?

Two steps later and Greymon found out why it should be a concern to him when the ground suddenly gave way beneath him and with a roar he plummeted down in a shower of earth and grass all around him like a miniature landslide. He crashed onto his injured foot which buckled underneath him, eliciting a roar of pain as he collapsed onto his side and crashed against an earthen wall in doing so, smashing onto his shoulder as the loam from up above cascaded down on top of him in a shower of dirt and dust.

Greymon lay there, half buried in the pile of soil, and did not stir.

* * *

Bastemon woke up again a couple of hours after she had slipped off, her head clearer that before and her shoulder feeling better. It took her a moment to remember what had happened, but she saw the bandage still secured around it and remembered the treatment of the human woman, Saleme.

She sat up, her energy restored somewhat but still feeling somewhat weak, blinking in slight bemusement. She was not in the same place that she had been in before – now she was lying underneath a shady canopy of leaves, surrounded by bushes – like a grove of some description. The river was nowhere in sight, nor could she hear the running of the water anymore.

How had she gotten here? And where was here?

There the crackling sound of a fire to her left and she glanced over, seeing her rescuer kneeling over a fire and turning a fish that she had impaled on a stick over the top of it, while munching on what appeared to be an apple in her other hand. As Bastemon sat up higher Saleme looked up and smiled warmly.

"Where am I now?" Bastemon asked.

"I took you back to my campsite," Saleme responded. "You passed out from exhaustion again so I carried you away from the river to here. We were too exposed out there – it would not have been safe to stay out in the open like that. Even having a fire like this can attract attention, which is why it's taking so long. But I thought that when you woke up again you would probably be hungry."

"Starving," Bastemon replied, her belly answering with a gurgle at the very mention of food at the same time. "Can't remember when I last ate."

"Well, I wasn't entirely sure what to get you but I thought fish would be the best choice. That's one of the main things that… ordinary cats eats after all."

"Yes, it is. But I do love a good mouse for some reason," Bastemon nodded, a dreamy looking smile appearing on her face as she remembered the giant Chuchumon that she had eaten in front of Taiki and the others. "When I see one I just… can't really stop myself from going for them."

"Sorry, I don't have mouse, but fish will do," Saleme nodded. "Seemed better than berries."

"I'd go for berries," Bastemon replied, as Saleme removed the fish from the fire and passed Bastemon the stick, so she blew on her meal to cool it down before taking a bite, savouring the delicious taste that filled her mouth and she could practically feel drop down into the bottom of her empty stomach when she swallowed. "But this is lovely. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me."

"No problem," Saleme replied. "I want to learn more about you. It's not every day that you come across something as unusually new as you."

"And I want to hear more about you," Bastemon nodded. "Learn more about my saviour."

"You first I think," Saleme nodded, sitting on a nearby boulder. "You're the stranger here, after all. And some of the things you told me back at the river don't really make sense to me."

"Let me just finish this first please," Bastemon nodded with her mouth full as she tore another chunk out of the fish, nibbling and gorging in a very un-princess-like manner, but then again she was ravenous at this point, and her airs and graces of royalty did not apply here. In fact, she quickly consumed the _entire_ fish, bones, head and all, leaving Saleme looking rather alarmed at the sight of her tossing the tail into her mouth and chewing that down as well.

"That was lovely," Bastemon smiled, feeling her strength returning a little as the effects of the food seemed to seep through her, though she still felt quite weak in body and shifted against the boulder she was leaning against. "You wouldn't happen to have any DigiNoir, would you?"

"No… I'm afraid I've not heard of that dish," Saleme replied.

"You haven't?" Bastemon asked. "Everyone in the Digital World has heard of DigiNoir… but you're a human so… Actually, I don't think I've heard of Northern Ith… Ithlio…"

"Ithilien," Saleme offered.

"Yeah, that," Bastemon nodded. "I don't think I've heard of that place before. And if you've never heard of a Digimon…" she paused. "This is the Digital World isn't it?"

"The Digital World?" Saleme asked. "I do not know of such a place. This is Northern Ithilien, which is in Middle Earth. Nowhere have I ever heard or seen of a Digimon in all the years that I have lived in this world."

"We're not in the Digital World anymore," Bastemon moaned, leaning backwards and covering her ears with her hands, automatic tears trying to spring to her eyes. "Oh no, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Are you okay?" Saleme asked.

"Not really," Bastemon sniffed. "I… I think that… I'm not in my own world anymore. Not even in my own universe. Greymon was right – this is a real crisis and I was just… oh, what if we can't get back. What happened to us? What…?"

"Easy, easy," Saleme said, stepping over and placing a calming hand on Bastemon's shoulder. "Take it slow. Don't panic, whatever's going on – do not panic. Take some deep breaths and calm yourself down."

Bastemon complied with her authoritative tone and gripped the rock behind her with her uninjured arm, sucking in and expelling air slowly and trying to calm her blazing nerves and heart. It helped to a degree but she couldn't really get over the sense of fear that had suddenly sprung into her mind. The fear of being trapped here, forever, in a completely different world and away from everything that she knew.

"Now," Saleme said, once she had noted the Bastemon had considerably calmed down. "I won't pretend to understand all of this, but you say that you are from another world? How can such a thing be?"

"You believe me?" Bastemon asked.

"I do not know what to believe but I am staring at a woman that is also a cat," Saleme replied. "I am willing to believe anything at this point. Now, I know that your name is Bastemon, and you say that you are a Digimon? That is the name of your kind."

"Yes, it is," Bastemon nodded. "Most of the creatures that live in the Digital World, which I now know I am not in, are called Digimon. That is my home and… who knows if I can ever get back there now? What will Greymon say when he finds out?"

"Steady yourself and talk to me," Saleme said slowly. "Start at the beginning and tell me more about yourself. If I know and understand what is happening here, then maybe I can help."

"Really?" Bastemon gasped, seizing Saleme's hands in her own and causing her pain through her injured shoulder as well as alarming Saleme slightly due to her long claws. "You would do that?"

"Well, I have already treated your wound, watered you, fed you and sheltered you," Saleme chuckled. "I can't just send you on your way after all that, can I? And you seem to be a friendly person. Why should I now help you?"

Bastemon beamed and lunged forward, seizing Saleme in her arms and pulling the woman off balance with a slight yelp and squashing her against her own body in a hug that a bear might have envied, ignoring the non-verbal protests her shoulder sent at her with the movement. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll never forget it, I promise. You're such a nice person, Saleme."

"Well… I do try," Saleme chuckled, a little wheezily as she was practically crushed against Bastemon at this point, while the Digimon rubbed the top of her head into the side of Saleme's face affectionately, just like a real cat would. Then she released her and Saleme pushed herself backwards, sitting on the other side of the fire. "Now… I believe there's a story to tell."

"Yes," Bastemon nodded. "Well… I'm Bastemon, and I am a Digimon who has, for all my life, lived in the Digital World. I am a member of a group of Digimon called Xros Heart, which I suppose you could call the personal forces of the Digital World's King, Shoutmon. We're something like an army really, although I'm not really a fighter. Most of the others are, but I'm not. I'm a princess."

"A princess?" Saleme blinked, with interest. "You mean you are the daughter of the King?"

"Oh, by the Code Crown no," Bastemon giggled. "I think I'm older than Shoutmon is. But when we first met, he was not the King and I was the ruler of the Lake Zone, which was a country of the Digital World at the time. I never wanted to be a Queen – I think I prefer the title of princess, but I was the one that made the decisions. But the Digital World was being attacked by a Dark Lord at the time, and he was trying to take over everything, so when Shoutmon and his General Taiki Kudou helped save my Lake Zone I decided to join their group."

"Well I suppose you do have the bearing of a princess," Saleme noted. "Or perhaps you would have more of one if you had not been shot with an arrow. Still, those are some magnificent jewels you've got there."

"Thank you," Bastemon nodded. "I admit I do like to treat myself to something sparkly sometimes, though I appear to have lost my tail-rings when I was separated from Greymon. Who can say where they are now?"

"Don't you think that all of that jewellery though is a bit… excessive?" Saleme asked. "I can understand the circlet of gold on your head and a few others but…"

Bastemon chuckled slightly. "I have been asked a few times in the past whether it might be a bit much but I like it. And why should I not, for I am a princess and one of the liberties of being a princess is…"

She stopped, and frowned. She was about to start talking about the comforts of life that being a princess granted her, but for some reason that made her stomach tighten and her throat constrict a bit. And then she remembered – it was those same liberties that Greymon had accused her of having too much of so that now she just expected everyone to do things for her when she asked them.

Not five minutes after she was back in a situation of relative comfort was she already resorting back to that kind of attitude of the airy princess?

Oh gosh, just how right had Greymon been?

"Are you alright?" Saleme asked, concerned.

"Oh, I'm fine," Bastemon shook herself a moment later, shifting uncomfortably but smiling nonetheless. "But where was I? Oh yes, after we defeated the Bagra Army…"

* * *

Greymon's tail, half covered in soil, twitched slightly and a low rumbling emerged from the dinosaur's throat as he began to stir, red eyes opening and his head raising up, a shower of dirt pouring off his large nose and he did so. He gritted his teeth, wincing as his side throbbed dully and his foot panged at him a little more.

He looked up, taking stock of his situation and what he saw was far from encouraging. He was surrounded on all sides by large, earthen, vertical walls. Quite tall ones as well actually, with lumps of loam and earth hanging over the side up ahead, along with numerous large leaves and branches. Inside the pit, Greymon could see numerous large staves and bars of wood, many of them sharpened into a point. It would appear that he had missed most of them, which was sheer luck on his part, but he had landed on one, fortunately not on the point, and crushed it beneath him, while another had scored a deep gouge across his side while a third had nicked his tail and another had been inches from hitting him in the eye.

A pit trap? He had fallen straight into a pit trap! A cleverly disguised pit trap, but a pit trap nonetheless. Why on earth was there a pit trap of this size around this area?! Surely whoever had attacked him had not had the forethought to plant a trap for him so far ahead of where they had previously attacked him – and the smell of the humans in the area had been at least a month old so that didn't make sense either.

What Greymon didn't know was that this pit had indeed been dug by the Rangers of Ithilien, but it had not been intended for him. It had been intended for any passing Mûmakil – the giant pachyderms from the South that were ridden by the tribes of Men down there, known as the Haradrim. In recent months the men of Gondor had seen the Haradrim marching north towards the Black Gate of Mordor, and they had been bringing their massive mounts with them, which were a danger to anyone who got into their path, destroying everything before them.

The Rangers had responded by digging numerous pit traps for the giant beasts, which were incredibly hard to take down by men on the ground, placing the pits at strategic points that they thought the Haradrim might pass through. Mûmakil were larger than Greymon, which was why the stakes had been set further apart that would have been necessary to try and skewer him, but Greymon had still had an unfortunate escape nonetheless. They had made the trap coverings strong enough to support the weight of a human, but not anything much larger.

Still, Greymon could not _believe_ that he had fallen for something like that. But more importantly he could not believe that he had actually been knocked unconscious. This was utterly ridiculous – he was a proud and strong Digimon from Blue Flare from the Xros Heart United Army and first he had been hit by flying boulders, now this.

It was not on! He was not some measly creature that could be bashed around like this. He was a Greymon!

And he sure as heck wasn't going to let a few injuries like this stop him. Not by a long shot! With a furious snarl he surged to his feet, ignoring the raw gash in his side and ignoring the pain in his foot, which had increased again since the floor, placing it on the ground and supporting as much weight with it as with the other foot.

The walls were high, reaching up to around Greymon's head, and the dinosaur was not known for his climbing ability.

But right now there was fire coursing through his veins – he was _angry._ Angry at being battered and bruised like this ever since he had got to this stupid place, separated from his companions and then separated from the few he had left. The fire seemed to course into his throat and spurt out of his mouth as he launched a Mega Flame at the wall in front of him, causing an explosion of soil that fountained everywhere, and which Greymon ignored as he charged in and slammed his shoulder and head into the wall, crashing and smashing himself seemingly in a mad frenzy against it.

This wall was _nothing_! Nothing compared to a Digimon like him! The soil fell down around him and bunched around his feet, but Greymon didn't care. He barely even noticed. Then he took a couple of steps backwards and let loose a rippling bellow of **"BLASTER TAIL!"** before he span around a full three-sixty degrees in the tight space, the large dinosaur charged energy into the metal casing beneath the spike on his tail and brutally smashed it into the wall, blowing the remains of it sky-high with a colossal geyser of dirt. The thing fell into a complete landslide that bunched around Greymon's throat, forming a slope right out of the pit that Greymon immediately stepped onto and clambered up.

"I don't care what this world has to offer," Greymon snarled as he stepped forward without a limp, blotting out the pain in his foot as if it did not exist, and moving onwards as if nothing had happened in that pit. "I am going to take it on as I've taken on everything – head-on."

He had no idea how much time he had lost in that hole, but he could see that the afternoon had begun and he still hadn't found Bastemon. He picked up his pace, storming on ahead now in his search for the missing princess. And woe betide anything that got in his way now.

* * *

Bastemon herself had unfolded the rest of her story to her new companion, who had seemed most fascinated by what she had to say. Bastemon had explained how something strange had happened a few days ago at their late dinner, celebrating their five years of peace since Shoutmon had ascended to the throne, and then the next thing she knew she was waking up in this large woodland next to Greymon and Revolmon, and had no idea what had happened, and how she had come to be separated from the both of them.

"Well, princess," Saleme had said. "That's… quite something."

"You do believe me, don't you?" Bastemon asked, a little worried.

"Well… it is a little hard to swallow but I suppose, for now, I can give you the benefit of the doubt. You certainly are a strange creature, and coming from another world is about the best explanation I have for why I have never heard of anything like you before. Though I must admit I have never spoken to royalty such as yourself either."

"Well… now you are," Bastemon smiled. "What about you? What are you going to tell me about yourself?"

"Oh, there really isn't much to tell," Saleme shrugged. "I suppose you could say I'm a bit of a… a nomad, I believe would be the best way of describing it. I don't like in the big cities of this region – I live out in the wilds and make my own way in the world, foraging for my own food and living my own life without rules or regulations that the so-called Steward and his sons would impose upon the people of this land. But I suppose a princess like you would not understand an existence like that, since you belong to the class of people that _make_ those rules, right?"

"Well, I've never tried to be an overbearing princess if that's what you mean," Bastemon replied.

"And… your King?" Saleme asked.

"Oh, he's not like that either. He doesn't make countless rules and regulations for his people to live by. He lets them get on with their own lives mostly, and steps in only when they need protecting from a Digimon that's seeking to cause harm."

"Sounds pleasant," Saleme noted. "Well… I've heard all that I think I need to hear. Your story is certainly… and interesting one and quite frankly half of what you say I still find hard to accept within my mind, but you seem earnest enough. I think I'll believe you."

"Thank you," Bastemon smiled. "So… will you help me find Greymon and Revolmon, and maybe some of the others if they're around this place?"

"Of course," Saleme nodded. "You say that you were washed down the river and you were heading back up in in hopes of reuniting with your friend?"

"Yes," Bastemon nodded. "Where is the river anyway? I can't see or hear it from here."

"My apologies – I did not realise that you needed to be beside the river in order to continue up it," Saleme replied. "It might be possible that your friend has bypassed the spot where I saw you."

Bastemon looked alarmed for a moment, cursing herself for not thinking of this earlier, but then she relaxed a little and said, "Not to worry – Greymon is quite large and hard to miss. If we head back to the spot, there would surely be tracks if he had been that way. He's at least five times taller than I am. Probably more – I was never good at math."

"Very well," Saleme nodded, getting to her feet. "Then I shall lead you back to the starting point where we met and we can continue from there together."

"Great," Bastemon smiled. "Thanks again for this – it really means a lot to me."

"Stop thanking me," Saleme chuckled richly. "It is no trouble whatsoever. Excuse me a moment though while I break camp."

Bastemon nodded and watched as Saleme put out the fire and began to scatter the stones surrounding it, as well as the smoking remains of the firewood, covering them up with soil as she did so to hide the ash. Then she pulled several things together and placed them into her pack, hefting it over one shoulder, and then knelt down to reach beneath a large clump of ferns. To Bastemon's alarm, she hefted a pair of viciously curved axes from beneath the foliage and twirled them deftly in her hands.

"What do you have those for?" she asked, shying backwards a little nervously.

"These are dangerous time," Saleme replied. "There are many marauders and raiders around in lands even such as this. If you want to be a wanderer like me then you need to learn to defend yourself against creatures like orcs – they would not hesitate to carve us up if they found us. They even turn on their own at most every given opportunity. But don't worry, princess. If we do come across an orc raiding party I will protect you. They rarely come out in the day anyway – they prefer the night. That's why I hid the evidence of my camp."

"Okay," Bastemon nodded, pushing herself to her feet and wincing as her shoulder pained her once again.

"Can you walk?" Saleme asked.

"Yes, I think so. Thanks to you."

"Okay, well then, we head that way," Saleme pointed off into the bushes. "We need to cover up our trail as we move – no use burying the campsite if we leave a clear trail that can be followed."

"I understand," Bastemon nodded, as Saleme strapped her axes to her back and produced several strong smelling leaves attached to the end of a stick. As Bastemon stepped away, Saleme walked closely behind her, trailing the leaves to blur up any tracks that they made as they walked and also to cover the scent of their passing.

"I wonder if Greymon found Revolmon," Bastemon murmured as she walked, holding her arm steady.

"Sorry?" Saleme asked.

"Revolmon, our other companion – I was just wondering if Greymon found him."

"Oh, right," Saleme nodded. "Well, if he hasn't by the time we reunite with him then I will continue to help you looking for him."

"You're very friendly for a solo wanderer," Bastemon said with a smile. "You remind me, I think, of a female, human version of Dorulumon."

"I… will take that as a compliment," Saleme chuckled.

"Oh, it was meant as one," Bastemon replied. "Dorulumon's not quite as smiles and laughs as you but he's a very friendly guy who used to be a wanderer himself."

"Perhaps I will get on well with many of your friends after I meet them."

"Yeah, I think you will."

And so they pressed on into the woodland. Bastemon felt tiredness, like she normally would around this moment, and the urge to curl up on the nearest log and fall asleep was strong within her, but she resisted it as best she could. She needed to keep going. Now was not the time to just stop, even though she had now found a friend who would look after her. Greymon would be looking for her and she needed to find him.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to her – wondering if Greymon had even survived his encounter with whoever had attacked them – but she banished it quickly. Of course he had survived. He was Greymon. He could survive anything.

So they moved on, slipping around bushes, over brambles and scrambling under the occasional fallen long, all the while with Saleme slightly behind Bastemon and blotting out their trail as best she could with her strange-smelling leaves.

* * *

They were still going half an hour later, and Bastemon could still see nor hear any more sign of the river or of Greymon. She frowned in bemusement – had Saleme carried her this whole way? If she had then she was clearly a very considerate person indeed. It seemed that she had fallen into some good company.

So she kept walking.

But still, she began to grow more concerned quite quickly – she was sure that she should have come across something by now shouldn't she? It was difficult to tell, for the forest all looked the same to her and she had the urge to fall asleep every so often, which didn't help.

"Saleme," she called over her shoulder. "Are you sure that this is the right direction?"

"Of course I'm sure," Saleme replied. She had fallen back a bit to fiddle with the leaves on the end of her stick as they were starting to come loose.

"Okay, but…" Bastemon frowned. "I'm no expert but shouldn't we have gotten back to the river by now? I wouldn't have thought your campsite would have been…"

She yelped as she felt a sudden stinging pain in her lower arm and looked down in alarm, thinking she had been stung by some kind of plant or insect. But her heart practically stopped when she saw the dart protruding from her arm.

She swung around, eyes wide and half pounding, and saw Saleme lowering the blowpipe that she had used to blow the dart, a smirk on her face as she stowed it back in her bag.

"Saleme," Bastemon choked. "You…" And she suddenly staggered a little, feeling woozy and not just from natural tiredness.

"You are quite naïve to go trusting every random stranger that you come across, princess," Saleme chuckled as she stepped closer. "You should have been more suspicious of someone like me, even if I did help you. After all, like I said, these are dangerous times. Though perhaps you wouldn't know that if you really do come from another world."

"What are you…" Bastemon coughed as her vision blurred.

"That dart was coated in a small mixture made from the roots of the Arunya flower," Saleme said as Bastemon fell to the ground, gasping for breath. "Don't worry, it shouldn't kill you, but I'm afraid that you might not be waking up for a while, princess. Not to worry though, since you've already spent half the time in my company asleep, right?"

"Saleme… why…?" Bastemon hacked, her limbs losing their feeling as she fell onto her side and her world growing hazy and dark, like on the riverbank all over again.

"Sorry, princess," Saleme replied. "But I'm not quite the nomad that I said that I was. I have my… duties… to consider. My duties to the Haradrim."

That word meant nothing to Bastemon, but even if she had the strength left to question her about it she was distracted from the question by the rustling of the bushes as several other humans stepped out from where they had been hidden in the bushes. Bastemon felt like such an idiot. Saleme hadn't been taking her to the river at all, but to the rest of her group.

"What is that?" she heard one of them say through her fading hearing.

"It doesn't matter," Saleme replied. "Let's just say that she is a princess, or so she tells me, and from this moment on she is our prisoner. Let's take her back to the main camp and secure her. I have a feeling that there are some people who would be very interested in…"

Bastemon heard no more than that because she lapsed into unconsciousness and her world blackened around her.

* * *

Yes, yes, yes I know, I am mean. I must be one of the meanest people on the planet really to keep doing this kind of thing to poor Bastemon but things aren't going to be looking up for her so quickly I'm afraid. She's got quite a few trials ahead of her yet, and this is how they begin. Heh, sorry about leaving you on another cliffhanger… okay, I'm not THAT sorry… Geehee. If any of you want to know, Saleme is an evil hero in the game War of the Ring, which I have never played, but since she was created then I though, why not use her?

See you next time then.

* * *

Next time…

The Digimon are on the move right across Middle Earth, most of them wondering around lost, while others have found their new companions. For the most part the people of Middle Earth are unaware of the intrusion on their world, but in the land of Rohan there are many closing in around them.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 26 : The Borders of Rohan**


	26. The Borders of Rohan

Hello everybody, here with another quick update – I slotted in an extra session yesterday because I missed one earlier in the week, so here I am with another upload a day after my last chapter from Quest of the Gods. I hope that you enjoy this one – it's mostly a chapter that jumps around to tell of what's been happening to various Digimon that we haven't been focusing on very much recently. They'll all eventually get in on the action, but until then I hope you enjoy their exploits while they're separated.

Read on folks, read on.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 26:- The Borders of Rohan**

* * *

Even though the situation was a dire one and they could not pause for thought, Aragorn could not help but feel that perhaps they were the strangest company that had possibly ever run across Middle Earth. The fact that a single Elf and Dwarf would be in the company of one another was not a normal occurrence anyway, but when you add in the two Men and the giant green-haired woman with the massive sword and the snake-arm and her little passenger in the form of the pink rabbit-like creature, together they made up one bizarre procession.

He wondered what anyone who they ran past would make of them and came to the conclusion that they might think that they had been on the ale a bit too much. Granted the Fellowship had always been a strange procession with the inclusion of the four Hobbits but since the Hobbits had left or been taken their new arrivals were that much stranger.

Still, he ran on without pausing to discuss this with the other members of his group, hurtling along the edge of a large precipice and darting around the boulder in front of him as he went, glowering out into the open expanse of grassland and rock formations that made up the area in front of him, as if hoping to see the backs of the Uruk-Hai that they were following in the distance if he stared hard enough.

But the horizon remained devoid of Uruk-Hai, and Aragorn thanked his skills as a tracker that they were still following on behind them. Although to be honest, the Uruks would not have been that hard to track for… well… anyone really. They were not exactly trying to cover up their passing, and several of them even seemed to go out of their way to make themselves followed, slashing at innocent bushes for no reason other than the fact it was fun to cut something.

Apart from that and the heavy bootprints that flattened the grass in front of him in a single long, column, Aragorn could see numerous other signs of the Uruks passing, such as the occasional scrap of dropped filthy cloth, bits of mouldy bread and, on one occasion, a corpse. A corpse with a heavy sword wound that matched Boromir's blade, meaning that the Man from Gondor had struck into this Uruk hard enough to fatally wound it, except that it had not succumbed to its injuries from some time.

The other Uruk-Hai had not stopped to help their comrade. Why would they? They had no use for a fatally wounded soldier and they were definitely not healers. If you couldn't fight, you were no use to them. They had all just run on past their fellow as he had keeled over and died on the road.

The only time the group really stopped was when Aragorn would lie down on a the ground briefly and put his ear to it, listening for the vibrations of the stamping feet of the Uruks. Despite the many miles a head that the Uruk-Hai were, he was quite capable of hearing the sounds of their slamming feet, and he was able to judge how fast they were going and how far ahead they were.

"Come," he yelled after he got up for the third time that day. "They have increased their speed. They must know that we are following us by this point. The wind was blowing from our direction to theirs yesterday. They may have caught out scent by now."

"If they know that they're being followed," Mervamon said as she ran up level with Aragorn, "You'd think they might try and hide the trail a bit better."

"They probably know that such a thing would be futile for ones such as them," Aragorn replied. "All orc species have a distinct lack of subtlety, not matter how disciplined they may be, and these Uruks were more disciplined than most orcs I have ever come across."

"Fair enough," Mervamon replied. "Are we gaining on them?"

"Hard to say," Aragorn replied. "They have not paused long in their own run either. They clearly have stamina to spare."

"As do you," Mervamon nodded. "As do all of you clearly. We've been running for almost two days now and we've barely stopped ourselves, not even for food. I have not come across a human… Man… whatever… with that kind of physical endurance before."

"I live in the wilds," Aragorn replied curtly. "You have to have endurance out there to survive."

"I see," Mervamon nodded.

"I'm getting hungry, kyu," Cutemon muttered, his stomach rumbling again as his hands clutched over it. He was the only member of the group not running and using up energy, so he knew that asking for food for himself was a little bit selfish of him, since the others had not eaten anything. Except for Boromir, who they had forced to eat something last evening because he was in need of all the strength he could get considering his recent ordeal.

Mervamon chuckled. "Well, you are a growing boy," she said. "Legolas, can I have more of that Elvish bread of yours?"

"Lembas?" Legolas asked from where he was running hard nearby. "Of course." He quickly reached into his pack and pulled out a leaf-folded slab of the waybread, which Mervamon caught in her only hand and passed up the Cutemon, who nodded gratefully and bit into it.

"I really wish… you would stop eating… in front of me," Gimli huffed along from near the back, his heavy armour clanking now and again as his shorter and stouter legs seemed to try working in overtime to allow him to keep up. "It is quite the torture."

"Sorry, kyu," Cutemon muttered, nibbling at the bread and trying to hide it from the Dwarf.

"And what is that?" Gimli asked.

"What is what?" Legolas asked warily, concerned that his keen eyes might have missed something.

"No, nothing like that. I meant… why do you end most of… your sentences… with that little 'kyu' noise?" the Dwarf looked to the Digimon.

Cutemon looked confused. "Why not?" he asked. "Is there any particular reason that I shouldn't, kyu?"

"Um… well not especially," Gimli muttered. "I suppose… each to his own and all that, even… if it is a little odd."

"It's a quirk that Cutemon's had since long before I met him," Mervamon chuckled. "How you holding up there, Gimli?"

"I fear I am in dire need of more air," Gimli said, but refused to stop running. Mervamon smiled – Gimli reminded him a little of Shoutmon in some ways, stubbornly refusing to give up despite all the troubles he went through and the obstacles in the path and no matter how bad things got. She couldn't help but feel a little more at ease because of it, even though the fact that she hadn't seen any further Digimon since she got here was irking her.

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged and look with one another, and despite the fact they were running after vicious monstrous Uruk-Hai to rescue their poor captive companions, they couldn't help but smile and chuckle a little. Neither of them had any further doubts about Mervamon or Cutemon's allegiances. While at first they were concerned they could be enemy spies and had been keeping an eye out even when they run, two days in their company has caused them both to warm to their new companions.

Granted most of those two days had been spent in relative silence because they had been focusing on running, but during the brief times they did speak Mervamon was always very friendly and very resolute, determined and encouraging to the whole group. And the extended period with which she had helped them by carrying the recovering Boromir, coupled with the fact that if she wanted to strike at them she could probably easily have killed two of them in the blink of an eye by this point with her sword and snake and yet she hadn't, had definitely elevated her trustworthiness in their minds.

And of course Cutemon was… well, cute… Even tough warrior Gimli thought so, but he would never admit it aloud of course.

They were as determined as they were to find the Hobbits and rescue them from the minions of Darkness that had taken them away.

"How about you, Boromir?" Mervamon asked, as if to prove their thoughts. "Are you feeling alright?"

The Gondorian Man was at the rear of the party, just behind Gimli. He too was breathing more heavily than Aragorn or Legolas, the latter of which seemed to be breathing as shallowly as ever and the former of which was still only breathing at a slightly fast clip, flagging slightly at the rear as he stumbled every now and again, but other than that he was charging forward as strongly as any of the others.

"Yes, thank you, Mervamon," he nodded, drawing level with Gimli as he said it. "I am feeling much fitter now, and I suppose that I have you to thank for letting me get some rest while not hindering the company. However… that said…"

"Yes, I know," Mervamon smirked. "If I ever meet your father I am not to mention to him that I slung you over my shoulder like a sack and bore you for the better part of the first day of running, correct?"

"I think I would prefer it if you mentioned it to no-one," Boromir replied. "It is quite undignified, and my men back at Gondor would probably mock me for it. Even if it was in jest, I would prefer that it didn't happen at all."

"Fine. But you're holding up better now," Mervamon confirmed.

"Much," Boromir agreed. And indeed he did seem to be doing better. He still didn't have the energy that the others seemed to have to spare because of it but he was ploughing on regardless, soldiering on like warrior and never offering any word of complaint or any grunt of exertion.

"You guys are really cool, kyu," Cutemon voiced as he clambered onto Mervamon's head. "You're like grown-up versions of some of our Generals or something."

"I wouldn't quite say that, Cutemon," Mervamon chuckled. "But still, we do owe you a great deal of debt – every one of you. More than likely we would have been wandering around in that forest where we first met you still by this stage if we had not chanced upon you and you had not allowed us to join your party. Yet I still noticed after two days of running that we have yet to encounter any sign of a civilisation."

"These are sparsely populated lands," replied Aragorn. "There isn't much available in the way of growing food. But we should be thankful that there is no civilisation on our path, for our path is in the wake of the Uruk-Hai and if they were to encounter a village before we, then it would more than likely be pillaged and destroyed by the time we reached it."

"True," Mervamon nodded. "Then I guess I'll just keep following you. I hardly have much alternative even if I were considering abandoning your quest to rescue your friends."

Aragorn ran along faster, down a slope that led towards more open land. He was beginning to wonder whether it would have been better for him to go with Frodo – they still had not mentioned the story of the One Ring in front of Mervamon or Cutemon during their run. They no longer believed that these two would sell them out to someone like Sauron, but they were all in silent agreement that the less people who knew about Frodo and his quest, the better. No matter how good their intentions were.

He hoped that Frodo would be making good progress, but he could not help but worry. Even though Frodo had made his choice, a small portion of him still felt as though he was abandoning the Hobbit. At least Sam went with him, and he knew that Sam would always have Frodo's back, but the personal responsibility was still there.

Nevertheless, Frodo was not the one in immediate danger, at least not as far as he knew. Merry and Pippin were, and as they continued with their charge across the open expanses of Middle Earth, Aragorn was becoming increasingly agitated, his eyes glued to the ground and the tracks that stretched away in front of them. While the Uruk-Hai tracks were easy to see, he had yet to see any sign whatsoever that Merry and Pippin were still alive. No footprints or body marks, but thankfully no bones either. Orcs in general would eat just about any meat, so he knew they were in danger of being killed and eaten, but so far he had seen nothing that told him whether they were alive or dead.

He hoped that they were not running on a wild goose chase. He hoped that with all his heart.

Yet he was consciously aware of how far ahead the Uruk-Hai had gotten. His group were fast runners, but the Uruks were very fast themselves, and seemed to have even more endurance than his group, with the possible exception of Legolas and Mervamon, neither of which had shown much sign of exertion yet. In addition, though it had only been a couple of hours, if that, from when Merry and Pippin were taken to when the chase after them began, Boromir had slowed them down somewhat thanks to his previous wounds, allowing the Uruks to get a much bigger lead on them.

The carrying of Boromir by Mervamon had helped, and now that Boromir was feeling better and running properly they were doing much better and Aragorn was convinced that they were gaining ground, little by little, on the Uruks. They might have even caught up with them by now if it weren't for the other main problem.

Night.

They had already run straight through two nights with few more pauses than in the day, never stopping and never resting, but the at night it was much harder for even keen eyed Aragorn to follow the trail of the Uruk-Hai. Twice during last night alone now that they had entered an area with much less shrubbery for the Uruks to slash, Aragorn had lost the trail twice in the darkness and had had to double back before he found it again and corrected their course. And of course, running at night in itself was more dangerous anyway, for there were still many precipices and boulders that could be fallen off or crashed into in this land.

But they had pushed on, and now, into their second day, they were still going, determined to make up for the ground they lost the previous night.

* * *

Aragorn led the group cross-country towards a small ravine in the distance that the trail of the Uruks led them towards, his eyes glued to the ground and he ran, the others falling silent behind him and allowing him to concentrate. After he led them into the ravine, with muddy ground so pockmarked with footprints that a blind man could probably follow them, he finally drew to a halt about half-way through it and knelt down, Mervamon having to spin to the side to stop from crashing into him.

"By the Code Crown, you're as quick to stop as Mekanorimon with a loose wire," she murmured. "What is it?"

"Did you find something, kyu?"

"I believe I have," Aragorn replied softly, reaching down gently and pulling something from the muddy-ground, barely visible against the grass. Legolas drew to a halt beside them as they looked down upon the small object that Aragorn held on his fingers.

"It's a brooch, kyu," Cutemon bounced up and down. "Like on those cloaks that you where, kyu?"

"This belonged to a Hobbit," Aragorn agreed. "And the Leaves of Lórien do not merely fall from their perches. This was a deliberate act."

"You think one of the Hobbit planted it there?" Legolas asked as Boromir and Gimli ran up behind them, the Dwarf cursing under his breath as his foot hit a rock and he almost went stumbling, and would have if Boromir hadn't grabbed him to steady him and pull him back up.

"Either that or it was ripped off and discarded by their captors," Aragorn replied, examining the footprints. "But I see no reason why they would do such a thing. We may not be on a hopeless errand after all."

"Do you think we have a chance of catching them?" Mervamon asked.

"I believe we have gained ground," Aragorn replied. "They were here yesterday, late-afternoon. We are catching up. Let's go, so we can thank whichever Hobbit was clever enough to leave us this clue."

And he was off and running again, just as Gimli caught up with them, Mervamon and Legolas running along behind him.

"Oh of course," Gimli muttered under his breath, doggedly pursuing them. "Don't allow the Dwarf a moment to catch his breath even if you get to stop and stand around for half a minute. I'm not designed for this!"

"Come on, Gimli," Mervamon said, having overheard his comment. "I could give you a ride on my back, if you like. Or maybe my shoulders."

"I beg to differ, Miss Mervamon!" Gimli cried indignantly. "Nobody carries a Dwarf."

"I thought that was 'tosses' Master Gimli," Aragorn called over his shoulder.

"Nobody lifts a Dwarf's feet off the ground in any way!" Gimli declared indignantly. "Unless they have four legs or feathers."

Mervamon snorted and dropped back to run beside Gimli and help him along in any way she could, while Boromir pulled ahead to try and catch up with Legolas and Aragorn.

* * *

A short time later, running and weaving their way through various rocks, following the course the that Uruks had taken exactly, and Aragorn pulled to a stop ahead of them, standing on the edge of a steep hillside and staring out across the horizon. This time he allowed all of them to pull to a stop beside him, and Gimli sagged a little, leaning on one of his axes for support like a walking stick as he gasped for breath.

"Why are we stopping?" Mervamon asked, while Aragorn gave Legolas a silent nod and the Elf ran on ahead, further up the side of the hill.

"We've long passed over the border into country of Rohan," Aragorn replied. "This is the East Emnet. We are now in the lands of King Théoden, the Horsemaster, who commands the Rohirrim – Rohan's Riders."

"Fear not, Aragorn," Boromir clapped him on the back. "Théoden and I have met on many an occasion. His men know me. If we should run into them then perhaps we can gain their help."

"It is not for me that I fear for," Aragorn said, glancing over at Mervamon and Cutemon. "In my experience the Men of Rohan have good hearts, but they can be quite rash and quick to act. I fear that if they catch sight of you Mervamon, they might assume you are not of the light."

"You think they might attack us?" Mervamon asked with narrowed eyes.

"It is a possibility," Aragorn nodded. "I would recommend that you stick close so that we can vouch for you. We may not come across any patrols at all, but we would not wish for any unnecessary misunderstandings to occur."

Cutemon huddled a little closer to Mervamon as she gave Aragorn a nod.

"And there is something else," Aragorn said, frowning as he looked back across the horizon. "At first I thought that those Uruks that attacked us were acting under their own authority, but now I am not so sure. I have never seen Uruks of their like before, and now I believe that they may be acting under another, more sinister evil that directed them to attack us deliberately."

"They did not count on our new ally, whatever the case," Gimli huffed, nodding towards Mervamon, who smirked.

"Indeed not" chuckled Boromir.

"Legolas! What can you discern?" Aragorn asked, calling to the Elf that he had directed further ahead. Legolas was standing on the edge of a precipice and focusing his incredible vision down on the plains below.

"I see them," he called, staring at a cloud of dust that was rising into the air in the distance. "Several leagues ahead. They have changed trajectory and are heading…" he paused, eyes widening, and he added:-

"They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard."

Aragorn grimaced. "I thought so."

"Then this is Saruman's doing," Boromir growled. "It was he who sent the Uruk-Hai after us."

"So it would seem," Aragorn nodded.

"Isn't that the Wizard that you mentioned before?" Mervamon asked. "The one that used to be a good person but has recently turned traitor?"

"That's him," Gimli snarled. "Filthy turncoat."

"Why would he send a patrol specifically out after your little party?" Mervamon asked, with a frown.

"Maybe he was trying to get rid of the rightful king, kyu," suggested Cutemon, which was actually a fair sounding suggestion.

"Though that does not explain why his army took your smaller friends," Mervamon pointed out. "They must have known they were not the rightful Kings of hum… Men… I am not going to be able to calling your entire race Men when there are women in it. From now on I will just call you humans."

"As you wish," Boromir nodded.

"The mind of the White Wizard has been twisted," Aragorn stated. "Who can say what his true motives are now? In any case, we must waste no more time. We cannot let Merry and Pippin meet with Saruman – it will only end badly for them both. Let's move." And he quickly began to scramble down the steep hill and in the direction of the distant dust cloud, Legolas jumping from his perch nearby to land beside him and continue running.

As Boromir and Gimli followed on, Mervamon frowned a little at their retreating backs. She had the distinct feeling that there was something that they were not telling her. She thought her instincts on this kind of issue relatively fine-tuned, and she was almost sure they knew more about why they had been targeted than they were saying.

"What's wrong, Mervamon? Aren't we going, kyu?" Cutemon asked.

"Yes," Mervamon shook herself. "Of course." And she hurried down the slope after them, resolving not to pry any further into this. They had been kind enough to let her stay and run with them despite their misgivings of her trustworthiness so she could probably give them the benefit of the doubt. She didn't even know if she would be staying in the company of this lot for much longer either so if they were hiding something she would wait for them to be the ones to impart it.

For now, she would continue what she had been mostly doing for the last two days and run – the six of them heading deeper out into the country of Rohan and striving to put on every mile they could before night fell once more.

* * *

Some distance behind Mervamon and Cutemon, the two Digimon running further and further away from him with every passing minute, was Ballistamon. The robotic Digimon had even begun to have his own endless reserves of patience tested during the course of the last night as he had continued to wander around in the vast maze of the Emyn Muil, unaware that that was what it was called or that it even had a name, and really unaware of anything at this point, least of how to get out of the place.

He had been almost non-stop walking around with very little aim ever since he had gotten into this place, trying and failing to find a way out onto more open ground. He had a good sense of direction, so he was able to more or less tell if he was going the same way as he had been five minutes ago, even though making out landmarks in this place was next to impossible since everything was so enclosed. But it was still a tough challenge to keep him going in the same direction all the time because the paths kept seeming to try and twist him away from his course.

Nevertheless he eventually picked a direction – west – and focused on it, trying his best to just head that way. If he kept heading west then, eventually, no matter how many times he veered off course, he should eventually come out of this place, should he not? As long as the path didn't keep on doubling back to the east, which unfortunately it did on many occasions.

Ballistamon wondered what had become of the three Monitamon. They were dunces but they were capable of looking after themselves… sometimes. It depending on how much trouble they went looking for – if they looked for it they were guaranteed to find it but if they were _not_ looking for trouble then it was likely to stay away from them for ten minutes at a time before they ran into a problem.

That didn't sound very encouraging to Ballistamon either but there was literally nothing he could do about their disappearance now. He would just have to assume they were still following those strangers from before that he had helped to save. He needed to focus on himself, and getting out of here. And then maybe when he found someone else who actually knew more about where they were going they could actually try a proper search for the Monitamon later on.

That didn't stop him from feeling guilty about leaving them behind though. Was this turning his back on them? He felt like it was, abandoning them in a strange landscape like this even if there was nothing he could do about it. Ballistamon's good soul told him to go back and look for them, but his head told him that doing that alone would probably have him wandering fruitlessly around this place for years. If he couldn't find the way out, how could he find three Monitamon in this maze?

They would be fine – and if they were with those strangers then they would have some protection and some guidance, which was more than he could say for himself.

He would head on and try to find the others. Someone like Sparrowmon or MailBirdramon could comb this entire place in two hours anyway when the time came. Finding them was his top priority.

Currently he was slamming his way up the side of a steep hillside, having finally gotten fed up of wandering around in the valleys, he had found the shallowest slope he could, which was not very shallow at all and started to make his way up. There were no decent hand or footholds for him to use as he clambered his way up, so he made the holds for himself, slamming each armoured hand and square foot into the side of the slope and punching a hole in the rock the exact same size and shape of the limb in question, practically locking him in place until he withdrew the limb himself and punched another hole to pull himself up further.

He looked, for all the world, like a giant beetle scaling the side of a wall as he climbed the slope.

"Should probably have done this earlier," he muttered to himself as he punched another handhold and pulled himself up further a few inches, his legs joints, or lack thereof, making it hard from him to go much further than a quarter of a metre upwards with each step, but nonetheless powering on.

It took him a while but he finally managed to pull himself onto the top of the ledge and looked out. This was a much better view of the surrounding area and there… not far away in front of him… hallelujah. The stone maze finally ended and gave way to what seemed to be a forest of some kind. And if Ballistamon had to be lost then he would rather be surrounded by trees than boulders.

"Well that took far too long for my liking, but I finally found my way out," he said to himself, stepping forwards towards the trees. "About time. Maybe I can start looking for the others properly now."

* * *

About an hour or so later and he was finally out and amongst the trees. Navigating here was obviously much easier because stepping around a tree was a much simpler task that stepping around a giant rocky wall. Ballistamon continued plodding along, his large, flat feet thunking against the leaf-litter with each step and his head rotating around on the spot like a security camera, his yellow eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of activity.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do now that he was out grateful as he was to be. How was he meant to go about finding any of the others? He realised in short order that he really couldn't do much but wander around aimlessly and hope that he happened across something. And walking round in circles was unlikely to do him much good so… he decided to just keep walking west. That seemed about the best idea that he could come up with at this stage.

So, he walked on, with no destination in mind. Maybe if he chanced upon any random stranger they would be able to help him with his problem. Perhaps they would have seen something that Ballistamon could find useful.

Shortly afterwards though, he came across his first major obstacle when he reached the edge of a ravine – a _massive_ ravine that fell away before him in a giant chasm, at the bottom of which was a large, fast-flowing river and next to no bank on either side. The ravine wall on the other side was just as high and Ballistamon could tell just from a look that there was no way he was getting over that. He couldn't fly or jump long distances and climbing up and down this would be next to impossible for him.

Ballistamon wasn't that great with water. He could swim, which was surprising for a Digimon of his bulk but since he was hollow inside he was actually not quite as heavy as he looked. But just because he could swim it did not mean that he was very good at it, and never mind the fact he would probably rust. It was ironic that he'd been created by a pirate Digimon that sailed out on the oceans really.

But he had decided to continue west and to do that he would need to cross the river. There had to be a crossing point here somewhere surely.

He turned southwards… and was immediately enthralled.

"Oh my stars!" he cried, clapping his hands before him like an excited child and interlocking his fingers. "Now _that_ is _ART!_ That is amazing! Oh I want to meet whoever it was that sculpted _those!"_

Ballistamon had a real appreciation for beautiful things, like paintings and statues and all kinds of forms of art. Perhaps it had something to do with being considered a work of art by the person that had built him, but Ballistamon was able to see beauty and meaning in strange art forms that most other people would find rather bemusing. It was like it spoke to him on some level that most people who were not artists would not understand.

But it did not take an eye for beauty to marvel at the wonder and splendour of the Argonath, the two statues of Gondor's ancient Kings, Elendil and Anárion, which towered on either side of the ravine with their hands outstretched. Though Ballistamon didn't know it, Mervamon and Cutemon had been here but two days earlier, albeit on the other side of the river, while the Fellowship had progressed between the massive statues followed by the two Digimon at the top of the ravine. Ballistamon was standing right across from where his two fellow Xros Heart members had been and he had no idea.

Still, Ballistamon was momentarily distracted from thoughts of his friends as he hurried closer towards the statues; instead of walking he was jetting along on his feet on small wheels that had extended out of the bottom – a faster mode of transportation that hadn't really been plausible in the rockiness of Emyn Muil but worked fine here. He rolled up as close as he could to the statues and marvelled at them, utterly captivated, not caring at all about the plants and lichen growing on various parts of it, or the occasional bird's nest perched on it.

"Wow, I wonder what Shoutmon would say if he could see this," he muttered, practically bouncing up and down on the spot in excitement. "Maybe we should try and get a giant statue of him done for the next anniversary… Assuming that we reach the next anniversary."

The thought sobered him up a little. He now knew that this was not the Digital World, for the statues were quite clearly of humans, and there were no humans in the Digital World anymore and definitely no statues of them. Shoutmon had considered making one of the generals but decided against it unless they met them again and could use them as model subjects to make sure they got it right.

He sighed a little and tore his eyes away from the statues, looking out across the large lake on the other side – which looked to be several miles long and extremely wide as well. There had to be a crossing point to this river somewhere, but maybe he should try heading down there first. If it came to swimming then he would swim, for the lake looked a lot calmer than the river down below that fed into it, even if was also much wider.

So Ballistamon began trudging down and around, descending through the woods and down the hill towards the shore of the lake, no better plan in mind right at this moment. He continued using steps instead of rolling on the slope – he had long since learned the rolling down a hill was a bad idea, because it was not easy for him to stop.

* * *

He had not been going long, when he started to hear what sounded like voices. He stopped, listening, and he would have cocked his head if that would have been physically possible for him.

Yes, it was definitely voices. Some quite guttural voices coming from amongst the trees nearby. Ballistamon couldn't make out what they were saying, but he immediately headed towards the voices. If there was a slight chance he could get help from these strangers then he should at least try.

As he got closer, he began to hear what was being said. There was a lot of muttering, but there were a couple of voices that were a little closer and more distinct than the others.

"…Don't like it out here by day," one of them moaned. "I don't like the way that the Sun stares down at me. I feel like it's watching me. Not like the Moon and the darkness that comes with it."

"Will you shut up?" another voice snarled. "Just deal with the fact that we're out here, okay? How are we supposed to be an effective patrol unit if we only do stuff at night? Everyone knows that we don't like the Sun nowadays, so they might try sneaking across during the day to slip past us."

"How do they even know that we're here then?"

"Well naturally they will assume that there might be danger and come at the time they think is best, idiot!"

"Alright, but I still don't like the Sun."

"You're in a forest! The Sun i'nt looking directly at you – you're in the shade. Besides, you're not a Troll. S'not like you're going to turn to stone if the sunlight hits you is it?"

"I know, I know. But you know there are trolls now that don't turn to stone in the Sun. The master's newest creations, I think. He calls 'em the Olog-Hai."

"Yeah, I've heard of them. Don't care for the name either. Sounds too similar to those Uruk-Hai. Bah! Can't stand those guys muscling in and thinking that they're better than us. First chance I get I'm going to stick my blade into one of them and make it look like an accident. That'll feel good, won't it?"

Ballistamon had stopped walking towards the voices after hearing those last few sentences. He was pretty sure that he didn't want to get mixed up with a group of people that said things like that. Maybe it would be better to just skirt past them and continue with his objective.

But as he made to do that, there was a rustling behind him and he turned around to see a grimy, scabby and gnarled looking humanoid create with pointed ears and mis-matched fangs in its mouth and carrying several sticks under one arm while the other held a wood-cutting axe. The creature froze as it saw Ballistamon and then screeched when Ballistamon turned to face him.

"Alarm!" he snarled, dropping the pile of wood and drawing a rusty looking knife from his belt. "There's something here! Some kind of… I dunno what it is!"

There was more rustling immediately from behind Ballistamon and he turned back to see several more of the creatures run out of the bushes with long, viciously spiked swords and other blades Ballistamon couldn't come up with a name for grasped in their long-fingered hands, snarling as they quickly surrounded the Digimon, brandishing their arms warningly.

"What have we here?" one of the creatures snarled, stepping forwards and jabbing a curved sword warningly in Ballistamon's direction. "Some kind of strange animal covered in metal?"

"Doesn't look natural," another growled. "Maybe we should try and peel back that armour and see what it looks like underneath."

"I mostly have gears and pistons inside me," Ballistamon replied, making them all jump. "Nothing special really."

"So it talks, huh?" one of them sneered, showing its sharp teeth. "Should we take it prisoner?"

"Look, I don't have any quarrel with you," Ballistamon replied, holding up his red hands. "I just want to get on and search for my friends. I'll leave you alone, for I have no business here."

"You begging for mercy already?" the largest of the creatures laughed. "Orcs don't show mercy, whatever you are. You're trespassing on our land and we can't have that now, can we?"

"Can we just…" Ballistamon started, for he would prefer to talk things out rationally than fight if he had the option. But he never got to finish the sentence.

"Get him!" snarled one of the orcs and two of them immediately sprang for him, swinging their sharp blades at his face. Ballistamon crossed his arms in front on him and blocked the blades with metallic clangs and shoved them backwards, sending the orcs stumbling. Another orc jumped on him from behind, landing on his back and wrapping his arm around his shoulder and slamming his sword down on Ballistamon's horn.

The blade pinged off the horn ineffectually, but Ballistamon was suddenly riled by this strike. "Do not touch the horn," he grated and spun around with a speed his cube-like body didn't look capable of doing. The orc cried and grabbed the horn in one hand as he was shaken loose and flung upwards, clinging to the horn for dear life. Ballistamon growled and furiously wrenched himself to one side, slamming the orc into a tree and sending it crashing into the ground with several broken bones.

"Get it! Kill it!" the other orcs piled forwards with cries of rage, teeth bared as they raised their weapons to strike. Ballistamon turned around and backhanded an orc coming in from the side with one blow, then seized another by the face in his other hand and swung him like a bat into a couple of others. The largest orc ducked in and swung for him with his sword but Ballistamon seized the blade in one metal hand, wrenched it and snapped it in half, tossing the half in his hand to the side nonchalantly. The orc backpedalled in alarm, but Ballistamon moved forwards with surprising speed and punched him full in the chest, sending him flying backwards like he'd been fired from a giant slingshot.

Several of the other orcs were now more wary, fanning out a little and trying to encircle, Ballistamon in an attempt to hem him in as they came at him from all angles. But it was an exercise in futility. Ballistamon lowered his head, aiming his horn at a group of three of them before crying, **"HORN BREAKER!"** and motoring forwards on the jets of his feet. None of the orcs saw such a turn of speed coming and Ballistamon swung his horn to the side and slammed all three to one side to crash in a heap into another tree.

With that motion, Ballistamon had also broken out of the circle and he turned around to see the other orcs gathering behind him, charging forwards with blades raised. One of them threw a spear at him, but Ballistamon lifted a hand and blocked the spear with the palm of his hand, where it clattered uselessly to the floor. The orcs hesitated as it so casually blocked their attacks. None of their weapons had even left a chink in its armour so far.

But the clincher came several moments later, when Ballistamon threw his arms out to his side and aimed his flat torso at the bunched up orcs and yelled, **"HEAVY SPEAKER!"** The concussive soundwaves that blasted out from the section on his chest could be heard throughout the forest as they burst out and crashed into the orcs like a physical wall, tossing them through the air and breaking bones with the force of the attack. The entire orc patrol was swept up in it, crashing to the ground or into other trees. And Ballistamon had not even used full power with the blast.

Ballistamon was not violent by nature though. He could easily run over now and finish most of those orcs off, but he didn't. As far as he was concerned they were just bandits and killing them when they were defenceless would border on murder. So he stood there and watched them go as they scrambled to their feet and scrambled away as fast as their injuries would allow them.

Four of them did not get up. They would never get up again.

Ballistamon sighed, wondering if he'd gone a little overboard, but decide against it. They had clearly been bad people, whatever they were – orcs they called themselves. So they had needed someone to teach them a lesson. And Ballistamon always got crabby when someone touched his horn without permission.

Deciding he was done here, he just turned around and continued the same way that he had been going in before the attack, knowing that if there were any more of those bandits in these woods, they had probably heard his Heavy Speaker attack and might come trying to investigate. He would prefer to be out of here before that happened.

* * *

He quickly headed down to the surface of the lake, staring out across its calm waters. He could tell now that there was a large waterfall at the other end of the lake, and that made him dubious about swimming – he would prefer to try and find an alternative way across before he attempted something like with a waterfall so close

And then, eventually, he came across something that surprised him – there was a small wooden boat grounded on the earthen shoreline, half in and half out of the water. At first he had not noticed it, because it was hidden behind a pile of boulders and he almost walked past the thing before he saw it.

He looked around for any sign of an owner, but there was nothing to indicate there was one. The boat was not even tied to the shoreline – it was like it had just been abandoned. He did not know it, but this was the same boat that Frodo and Sam had used to cross the lake and continue on the journey themselves.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody?"

There was no answer. But Ballistamon did notice two identical boats on the other side of the lake, in the far distance, which made up his mind. He would use the boat – he was not exactly stealing it and if someone on his side needed it then they could get someone on the other side to return it to them. So he gingerly clambered into the small boat, having to mostly tip it over to allow him to lift his legs into it before he carefully used his feet to tip it back upright. Then he reached over the side and pushed it away from the shore with his hand and made his way across the lake, using one wide hand like an efficient oar, sitting precariously in the middle of the boat and thankful that it could support his weight.

It was an Elvish boat though. So it supported him easily.

There was still no sign of any people when he reached the other side, beaching the boat and unsteadily clambering out of it again and onto the bank. He could see footprints in some places that looked slightly recent, but he was no tracker. If he were, he might have been able to tell that some of the prints were Mervamon's, but he wasn't, so he couldn't.

Obstacle out the way, Ballistamon continued to strike out west, no other real objective in mind than to find his way, and unaware that he was heading in a direction many degrees lower on the compass that two of his companions had taken, heading straight through the Sarn Gebir hills on his jet-feet and towards the southern part of the East Emnet.

Towards Rohan.

* * *

Ballistamon was not the only one to be confronted by obstacles though; there was another group of Digimon that had encountered a similar obstruction to the one that had had just crossed.

The Gaossmon had certainly had a rather uneventful couple of days ever since they had gotten into Middle Earth. For the most part anyway. They had spent most of their waking hours in the same way – running around madly on their two legs like a large group of dogs that were chasing after a rabbit or something.

They never seemed to tire, no matter how frenetic they became and dashed about, kicking up dust beneath their feet as they swarmed like a flock of starlings whooshing around in various patterns and tumbling over one another. Every time one of them fell or got knocked over they would just roll back onto their feet. From above, their small blue bodies must have made them look like a shoal of fish hurtling over the land.

But the way they swarming together was the only similarity they shared with fish. When it came to the fish's medium – water – Gaossmon were… to put it in perhaps the nicest possible way, worse than useless.

Gaossmon were built for running, and they did it very well. But when it came to swimming, they didn't have a hope. None of them knew how, and even if they had known the basic idea behind how to swim, they were physically incapable of doing it. Which was unfortunate for them considering where they were heading.

Although in reality, they weren't really heading anywhere. Another thing that none of them really had was a sense of direction – they just flowed with the swarm and all seemed to follow one another rather than try and lead. All sixty-eight of them just ran and ran and ran with no particular thought in mind other than they had to find where they were, and where the others were. Which was proving difficult because in the last two days they gone in various circles several times now and, most often, not even realised it.

There were only two reasons that they stopped running. The first was to sleep. When night fell they would all flop onto their stomachs and huddle together like penguins, snoozing the night away until the dawn broke. And when it did, they would all stand up, yawn, stretch their legs and then immediately start running again. Only they would each pick their own direction and scatter around in a wide circle, and it usually took half an hour of running around all over the place before all of them were moving with one another.

The only other time that they stopped was about twice a day where one of them would decide to do a headcount and call a halt, hopping onto the nearest rock and making sure that all sixty-eight of them were still there, which they were, though it was difficult to keep all the restless Gaossmon still enough to count them properly. When one counter managed to reached eighty-two due to counting many of them more than once, he immediately started yelling about spies in their midst, and another counter had to step up and recheck the number, confirming that there really were sixty-eight of them there.

And so they ran on with wide zig-zags and curves and taking on the general direction of south, but meandering all over the place like a river.

And speaking of a river…

* * *

"WATER!" yelled one of the Gaossmon at the front of the back, trying to screech to a halt as quickly as he could, clawed toes furrowing the ground and if it had any arms whatsoever, they would have been flailing wildly at this point. But its attempt to stop was not hindered by the other Gaossmon, who all ploughed into the front-runner and so on and so on in massive pile-up of flying bodies and thrashing limbs, sliding forwards in a massive jumble of tails and yelling.

The front-runner was pushed into the shallow water of the river and by the pile-up as it came to a stop mostly on the bank, a couple of the other Gaossmon also had a portion of their body dipped into the cold water.

The Gaossmon immediately began to freak out, yelling and thrashing and wailing, spraying water everywhere and swallowing more of it and he coughed, retched and screamed, "HELP! HELP! I'M DROWNING! I'M DROWNING!"

To a casual observer, this sight might have looked utterly ridiculous, because the struggling Gaossmon was only in about ten centimetres of water on the edge of the river. But the other Gaossmon knew better and immediately scrambled upwards, running around at the edge of the water like panicking chickens and bumping into one another.

"Think like ChibiKamemon! Think like ChibiKamemon!" one of the barked, bouncing up and down on the side of the river like an overexcited Chihuahua.

"I can't!" spluttered the one in the water, kicking and flailing and rolling over. This was not just a panic attack – he genuinely was drowning in water that shallow. It was like the water just pulled him down and entered his mouth, although the water was really doing no such thing. Gaossmon were just that bad with water.

"Grab him!" cried another Gaossmon, standing up and reaching out as far as he could while staying on dry land itself trying to grab his fellow Digimon in his jaws but just unable to reach. Quickly, the barking one seized the would-be rescuer by the tail and pushed him out into the water, keeping hold of the tail in his own jaws while he stayed on dry land himself. The rescuer immediately lost his balanced and almost began flailing around himself, but he managed to latch onto his drowning cohorts own tail with his own mouth.

"Pulllll!" yelled several other Gaossmon forming a line and grabbing each other's tails to motor backwards and heave the two others to safety, leaving them slumped and dripping wet on the bank, gasping for breath.

"Oh, that was too close for comfort," the one that had been drowning gasped. "That was… I saw my entire life flash before my eyes there."

"Ugh, I hate water," agreed the rescuer.

"We _all_ hate water," another Gaossmon nodded. "It's like it's out to get us all the time. I wish that we could swim like ChibiKamemon can."

"Yeah, well we can't," grunted another, looking out across the river, which wasn't particularly wide. In fact it was more of a tributary than a river, but they were all staring at it as if it was the most horrifying thing in the world.

"Water is evil," another Gaossmon shuddered. "I do not understand how ChibiKamemon can like it so much."

"I tell you this, I am sure as heck glad that we didn't have to fight against Splashmon," another said. "A being _made_ of water? Why was he not the leader of the Bagra Army instead of Bagramon? We should have been fighting the Splash Army or something."

"If we'd fought a Splash Army we never would have stood a chance," shuddered another Gaossmon. "Don't even go there."

"So… what are we supposed to do now?" asked the one that had grabbed the tail of the rescuer. "Do we go back? We can't cross that!? It's got to be half a metre deep."

"Maybe deeper!" another suggested, and they all gasped in horror.

"We must turn back. We can't cross this monstrosity," another wailed.

But, surprisingly, the one that nearly drowned said, "No," and clambered back to his feet. The Gaossmon didn't have a leader, not really, but this was the one that had been mostly at the front of the group during their headlong running, so they turned to listen to him. "We can't go back now – we never found anything. What if they're on the other side of this thing? If they are, then we won't find them if we wimp out and just go back. We should at least try."

"Are you insane?" another Gaossmon gasped, pointing at the shallow river maybe three metres wide. "Are you even looking at this thing? It's got 'death' written all over it."

"Guys, guys," the near-drowned one said. "What are we? Are we baby Botamon cowering in a hole or are we Gaossmon, warriors of Blue Flare and the Xros Heart United Army. We've got to face our fears somehow and we can cross this river. I've seen wider rivers than this. Deeper ones too I bet. And faster. We've got to find a way to cross it."

"But how," another protested. "If we step into that thing then we'll all die. I saw one of us pass out in a small puddle once."

"I swear the thing snuck up on me," the particular Gaossmon being referred to shuddered, remembering vividly that truly malicious puddle.

"I know that we can't swim across," the emboldened Gaossmon said. "But there must be somewhere that we can cross. Maybe there's a bridge somewhere that we can use. Let's at least try and find something, shall we? We can't just turn back straight away. Let's head this way." And he immediately started running, his feet kicking up the dirt of the bank as he took off west, following the course of the river. The other Gaossmon hesitated for a second, but a few moments later they were all following, caught up in the running and swarming across the bank, giving the river as wide a berth as they could as if it would rise up and attempt to sweep them into it at any second.

* * *

They hurtled across the bank for about ten minutes or so, actually going in a relatively straight line now that they had a landmark to follow, tails swinging wildly behind them in slight agitation as they ran and the sound of their feet hitting the ground akin to several large jackhammers tunnelling into a street.

But then the Gaossmon in the lead saw something that he found to be interesting and slowed himself down, the other Gaossmon slowing with him instead of piling into him as they'd done when he'd tried to stop suddenly. The lead Gaossmon nodded and turned around, pointing with his tail. "That's it," he said. "That's our way across."

"It's a small tree," one of the others observed. "And it's still upright. Just."

"Not for long it isn't," the lead Gaossmon chuckled. "You see those stones out on the other side of the water from it. We can use them too. Let's go."

The tree that they had stumbled across was a small silver birch tree that had long since died of who knew what, standing precariously at the side of the river. The Gaossmon lead the rest of his group towards it and increasing his speed as he made straight for it and threw himself at it, slamming the top of his head into it with an audible creaking sound. Several of the other Gaossmon moved in around him and took their turn, slamming head after head after head into the trunk of the dead tree in rapid succession, like a boxer to a punching bag.

The tree couldn't stand the pressure of the blows and many its old roots were yanked up and out of the weakened ground, causing the tree to topple over and crash into the river, held in place by what was left of its roots in the bank, while the other end of the trunk was resting against a rock sticking out of the stream.

"Perfect," the lead Gaossmon muttered and then gulped, looking at the water itself with trepidation. That was the easy part over and done with. Now they had to do the hard bit. "Erm… who wants to go first?"

Several of the Gaossmon backed away nervously, nobody wanting to be the first to dare cross. These Gaossmon had faced down the massive forces of the Bagra Army and gone toe to toe with some of their largest forces and yet they were absolutely terrified out of their minds at the thought of crossing this river.

"Okay," the lead Gaossmon muttered. "Guess it's… up to me then."

"Careful," another one muttered.

"Of course," the lead one muttered, leaping onto the fallen tree and finding its balance on the slender trunk, eyes narrowing as he focused across to the other side of the narrow river. Then, without further ado, he charged. There was no careful balancing act here – Gaossmon never walked anywhere. Either they ran, or they didn't move at all, and when they ran they were at their best.

The Gaossmon blazed across the trunk like it was balance beam and sprang off the other end onto the nearest rock, bounding off it to land on another and do a series of running hops from boulder to boulder the rest of the way to the other side of the stream, before he bounded onto the opposite bank and bounced up and down, whooping and swiping the air with his tail since he had not arms to punch it with.

"Oh by the Code Crown, that made me feel alive!" he cried. "Come on, you lot. Nothing to it."

Emboldened by their comrade's success, the others ran forwards. There was some slight squabbling and butting heads with one another at the base of the tree as several of them tried to hop onto the tree at the same time, but eventually they managed to sort themselves out into a line, one after the other jumping onto the log and running across it and the stepping stones of the other side, hop hop hop, to land on the other bank themselves. Despite their nervousness not one of them tried to go slowly. It just wasn't in their nature at all.

There were a couple of scares at some points, like when one slipped on one of the boulders and almost overbalanced, but quickly threw himself to the side to land on another boulder instead. And there was also an instance where one of them slipped off the tree and fell into the water, but managed to seize the tree with its jaws to keep from sinking or being swept away. The next Gaossmon along quickly ran over and managed to grab him by the tail and haul him back onto the log, breathing hard, but otherwise okay. And then the two of them dashed to the other side like everyone else.

"Alright," they barked, bouncing up and down like sixty-eight overexcited Chihuahuas instead of just one. "We did it! We did it! We did it!"

"Okay then!" one of them suggested. "Let's keep going!" And they all turned together and shot away, determined to put as much distance between them and the river as they could. But though they didn't know, they had just passed over the northern boundary of the country of Rohan, which the River Limlight that just crossed marked, and they were running south deeper into the country.

* * *

While the Gaossmon had managed to get one of the two obstacles that Ballistamon had had to face, another Digimon was about to face one of his own – the obstacle of running into enemy forces.

In comparison to some of the other Digimon, Golemon had had a pretty uneventful last couple of days. The rock-skinned Digimon had pretty much started on his solo journey from finding himself at the base of a mountain range by walking south with long, plodding strides. And he had done pretty much nothing else since then, not even stopping at night to sleep and just plodding along the side of the mountains, waiting until he stumbled on something of interest.

Golemon was like Cyberdramon in that he rarely said anything, but unlike Cyberdramon this was because… well… because of his fairly limited intelligence. Nobody said things like that to his face obviously, and he was welcomed as a valuable asset to the team by everyone, but it was hard to deny that Golemon was not exactly a very sharp knife.

His skin was entirely made out of stone, and therefore so was his head. Nobody was sure whether his brains were possibly made of rock too and nobody was going to be insensitive enough to ask. But when it came to battle situations, Golemon mostly just stood there silently until he was given an order, which he would then go and carry out to the best of his ability.

Right now, he had nobody to tell him what to do, so he followed his own simple mission of seeing what he could find, and he never wavered from his path in doing so. He was walking down the side of the Misty Mountain range, always heading South, and just staring ahead to see what he could see. One advantage of being slow in both body and wit was that it granted him patience, enough so that two days after he started he was still treading along amiably.

But that was not going to remain the case for much longer, for now, Golemon could sense something. He was quite sensitive to vibrations in the ground, and he could feel vibrations coming from up ahead through the ground – vibrations that felt like many tramping feet. So he headed towards them, wondering what he might find to himself, though his expression remained relatively unchanged.

He did hope that it was some good news. Slow as his mind was, his heart and soul were as strong as anyone else in Xros Heart, and he was getting anxious about what could have happened to both himself and the rest of this team-mates. When Golemon had first joined Blue Flare, it had been relatively early into Kiriha's exploits as a General. Kiriha had asked him and several other Golemon if they had wanted to strike back at a group of the Bagra Army that had been terrorising their area. It had taken them a while for them to understand what was being asked of them, but eventually they had agreed, eager to find a chance of paying the Bagra Army back for trying to muscle them off their turf.

They hadn't exactly had the best time of it under Kiriha's leadership to begin with. Kiriha had only respected strength at first, and had basically used the Golemon as added muscle, occasionally calling them out to pound something or DigiXros with another of his team, usually MailBirdramon, to allow _them_ to pummel something, and Kiriha had generally cared quite little for their well-being, with MailBirdramon even slamming them out of the way when they were no longer needed if the battle was not over. It wasn't until much later that Kiriha had started to care more for them, during the fight against Dorbickmon when he had needed all the assets he could get, and started looking after them better.

But that had not been enough and all of the Golemon in Kiriha's overpowered army had perished except for him. He was the lucky survivor. Of course the other Golemon had been revived by the Code Crown later, but they had all gone their own way after that. Golemon was the only one who had decided to stick around, because he had been present when Deckerdramon had revealed Kiriha's past, and how his father had been very harsh on him about getting stronger, only to pass away shortly afterwards and leave the impression in Kiriha's mind that only the strong were worthy, and how it had later been revealed that his father had meant those with true strength were those with true friends.

That particular unveiling had touched even Golemon's stone heart, as well as Cyberdramon's, who himself had only just been in it for the fighting up to that point really. And after that, Kiriha had started to care much more about the well-being of all his Digimon.

So Golemon had stayed out of a sense of duty to Kiriha and, after the war, had ended, he had grown to enjoy the company of the others, though he himself did not often contribute much to conversations.

But where could they be now?

What he saw up ahead was not, in fact other Digimon, but a column of humans that were threading their way across the hillocks of the sparse landscape beside the mountain. They were rather scruffy looking, with scraggly bears and long hair, clothes made out of animal hide any various scraps that they seemed to have somehow cobbled together and they each had some kind of blade or other weapon clutched at their side. Golemon headed towards them, not pausing in his stride even when he saw them, but wondering what a group of humans were doing in a place like this. Maybe one of them knew Kiriha.

It didn't take long for the men to notice him approaching, for a giant, walking creature made of stone was not exactly discrete, and Golemon was not even trying to be so. They immediately backed away from him, growling and raising their swords as they stared at him in shock, baring rotten looking teeth in growls of warning. Golemon pulled to a stop in front of them, staring down at them steadily and calmly, not feeling at all threatened by their blades and regarding them curiously, wondering if he should say anything.

"Is that what I think it is?" one of them asked. "You think they really do exist?"

"Could be," another grunted. "It looks like it's made of stone."

"It's got to be one of them Stone Giants that live in the mountains," said the first. "I hear that they fling boulders the size of houses at one another when they're in a bad mood and can break entire mountains."

"What have you been eating? It's not a Giant. It's not big enough to be one of them. It is clearly some kind of troll."

"No, trolls aren't made of stone. They turn to stone when the Sun's out."

"The Sun _is_ out, you halfwit!"

"Well, yeah, but trolls don't move around when it gets turned to stone, right?"

"Well clearly they can considering this one right here is doing just that!"

"Should we not be more afraid," another one asked, backing away. "Trolls ain't something that I would just stand there arguing in front of. Look at him eyeing us up. He might want to eat us."

"Eat us?" snarled the first one, hefting his sword. "No trolls is going to feast on Dunlendings such as we. Cut it down before it attacks! Trolls are pretty stupid so we can outsmart the guy."

The human charged forwards and swung his sword into Golemon's leg, shattering the blade with the impacted. Golemon growled, not pleased that he had been struck like that and knocked the Wild Man flying with a flick of his toes so he crashed into some boulders nearby. The other Men roared and charged him en masse, close to thirty of them in the group and wielding spears and axes and a few of them with bows and arrows, and they struck out at Golemon with everything that they had, slashing at his legs and arms, jabbing at his belly and shooting at his face.

Golemon stepped backwards under the assault, not injured but very much annoyed, throwing an arm in front of his face to protect his eyes which were about the only vulnerable part of his body. The Men pursued him with roars of battle, hacking at his stomach and knees for all they were worth.

Now Golemon was ticked off. Though he had never attacked a human before, there was a first time for everything, and he roared, raising his huge arms above his head to bring them down like giant sledgehammers, flattening several of them to the ground beneath them and slaying them instantly, stepping forwards to stamp on another and then swinging one arm aside to send everyone within range flying outwards like they'd been hit with a club the size of a tree-trunk.

Practically the entire group of Wild Men had been dealt with in those few attacks alone, and the others roared and increased their attacks, falling back with the archers to stay out of the way of Golemon's limbs. But they were counting on Golemon bending over to place his hands on the ground, aiming the vents jutting out of his back in their direction.

"**SULPHUR PLUME!"** he snarled, and blasted out copious amounts of super-heated gas that enveloped the remaining Men. He himself was immune to the heat, being made of rock, but they certainly were not. What followed was not what could be called pleasant, but when it was done all that was left was a soot-stained expanse of ash in front of Golemon for several metres. The Men had been incinerated.

As previously stated, Golemon was not that intelligent. He had attacked without thinking properly and had slain the Men without really understanding their reasons for attacking. Fortunately those Dunlendings had been on their way to help with the pillaging of Rohan so Golemon could be let off but it was a good thing that they had not been Men of Rohan themselves or a major misunderstanding could have occurred.

As it was, Golemon continued heading on southwards as if nothing had happened, and he was now drawing close to the end of the mountain range. He, like the other Digimon, was drawing closer to Rohan.

And in the sky above him, a group large black birds condensed together in giant flock that from a distance could be mistaken for a black cloud were circling around, flapping to stay aloft and constantly calling to one another in some raucous language that most could not understand. They looked quite a lot like crows, though they were slightly larger than a normal crow, but not big enough to be a raven. And they certainly were _not_ crows _or_ ravens.

These were Crébain, an entirely different race of birds native to Dunland, and used by Saruman the White as spies, keeping an eye on all the lands around the fortress of Isengard that Golemon was also drawing closer to. The Crébain continued cawing to one another as they winged their way South back towards the fortress home of their master, squawking and croaking as they went, their wings beating making a sound like giant cloths flapping in the wind. They had just seen everything that Golemon had done, and they had a feeling that Saruman would be quite interested to hear what they had to say this time.

* * *

At the destination of the Crébain, everything was going on as per normal, with more and more weapons being crafted and armours moulded, trees burned and Uruk-Hai created from the mud within the pits. Saruman the White oversaw everything from his Tower of Orthanc, making frequent trips down to keep a closer eye on the progress. Despite the strange explosion that had happened yesterday, things were still running pretty smoothly.

Still, Saruman was keen to learn what had been the cause behind that explosion. It had been very similar to something that he had in mind for the future of the war, and he was wondering if there was something that he could use to help develop the device that he had not yet looked into. But thus far he had found nothing. The orcs had made makeshift repairs to the ramp that had been damaged, and everything was continuing on as normal.

The White Wizard looked up as he heard the distinct cawing noise of his Crébain spies sweeping down into the pits, screaming their grating cries for everyone around them to hear, the birds flapping around the various passageways as one of them alighted by Saruman, its head cocked and looking up to him as he relayed the message that all the others were screaming. Most of the Orcs did not have a clue what was being said – in fact, none of them did – but Saruman was well versed in many different tongues of many different races, including the Crébain, and he listening to the birds' report with growing intrigue.

"Interesting," he mused to himself. "You are certain of this?" he asked the bird.

The bird nodded and flapped on its perch to emphasize its point.

"Certainly I have never heard tell of a Troll that has the ability to do that," Saruman murmured. "And to be walking about in the middle of the day so far from Mordor – there are no Olog-Hai in these lands yet, and no Olog-Hai can do that either. And it was not large enough to be some species of Giant?"

Another cawing answer.

"Then it would seem," the Wizard swept away, "that this demands further investigation."

The Crébain flapped away and the nearby orcs got back on with what they had been doing before. None of them noticed the tiny little beings that were huddled together beneath some rocks nearby – the Bombmon still had yet to find their way out of the pit.

"What do you think that was all about?" one of them asked.

"I don't know, but for some reason that made me feel a bit uneasy," the other said.

"I'm with you there. But seriously, we _have_ to find a way out of these stupid pits!"

* * *

There you have it guys. Some of those little passages went on longer than I intended them to, and I was going to give the Bombmon a longer passage that that, but in the end I think that it worked out for the best. Hope you enjoyed it. There was some action involved, but I think my favourite bit to write there was the bit with the Gaossmon and their fear of water, which is in their official description so I didn't make that up. But it was quite hilarious to write, at least for me. Hope you liked it too.

* * *

Next time…

Beelzemon and Wisemon deliberate about their next move in the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, the images from the Mirror still fresh in the former's mind. But before they can make a plan of action the alarm is raised – Lothlórien is under attack by an orc raiding party. What will Elf and Orc alike make of the new additions to the war?

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 27 : A Demon of Good**


	27. Demon of Good

Heya everybody. This chapter is a few days later than I would have liked but the filming for the trip cut into my writing schedule and as much as I would like to have kept on writing this, my final project for uni does take precedence over this, I'm afraid. Anyway, I'm back now with a ton of new footage of those wallabies under my belt so all's good. And now, if you would like to go ahead, here's your latest chapter. I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 27:- Demon of Good**

* * *

"No. No. Nono. Not the vacuum cleaner. Anything but the vacuum cleaner. Help. Somebody help me please. It's after me… it's sucking me in. Help."

Beelzemon rolled his eyes and give the slumbering and yet muttering Wisemon another light smack in the shoulder with the back of his hand. Wisemon snorted and his eyes opened, blinking for several moments before he murmured, "What was it this time?"

"From the sounds of it," Beelzemon muttered dryly. "You were being chased by a vacuum cleaner of some description."

"Oh yes, I've had that dream before. It was a most disturbing one. Thank you for waking me up so I didn't have to remember it again."

"Wisemon, do all your dreams involve being chased by something?" the Demon Digimon asked. "Because that's the fifth time I've had to wake you up from one of your dreams. First it was a goldfish bowl, then it was a coat hanger, then it was a machete – which is more understandably scary – and then it was a lightbulb. Now a vacuum cleaner."

"It isn't my fault," Wisemon yawned. "This always happens to me when I have to sleep in an unfamiliar place or change beds or something. I have come up with the theory that my overactive mind cannot settle in a place that registers at 'not home' and so these strange dreams keep being conjured up out of nowhere. It is indeed a peculiarity but as far as I'm concerned it is natural."

"It's downright strange, that's for sure," Beelzemon chuckled.

"We all have our quirks," Wisemon nodded… wisely. "My apologies for awakening you. I shall endeavour to keep my mind under control for the rest of the night. Perhaps it will get easier soon."

"You do that," Beelzemon nodded as Wisemon lay down. Then the Demon Digimon turned around to stare out across the massive trunks of the trees. The two of them were sitting at the base of one such trees, Wisemon leaning between two great roots and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Beelzemon on the other hand actually had not slept at all. While Wisemon's mind was apparently to active to give him a restful sleep, Beelzemon's mind was too pre-occupied to let him even consider sleeping himself.

He was still mulling over the various things that he had seen in the Mirror, all the images that the Lady of Light had taken him to see yesterday. Though night had long since fallen after that he didn't feel tired. It was like his mind was rejecting the very idea of it, since it was so full of those images repeating themselves, trying to make sense of themselves inside his head.

His mind was etched with worry for his various team-mates. He wasn't sure if it was a relief that they had all been tossed into this world or not. It was a relief that they were all still together in that sense, but since everyone else was so scattered about that was the only sense that the word seemed to fit. And there sounded like there was so much danger abound in this world right now – how many of the others were safe.

He kept thinking about Lillymon, enwrapped and hung upside down in that webbing, or the miserable looking Bastemon with several people standing behind her. What if they were in trouble and he was not able to get to them. He had tried his little trick of instant transportation in this world – in the Digital World he was capable of entering the Digital Barrier at will and using it like a highway to transmit himself from one area of the Digital World to another at a rapid pace, leaving nothing but a feather behind, and dropping another moments before he arrived like some kind of calling card.

Here, that trick didn't work. Whenever he tried he just felt a little dizzy so it looked that he would only be relying on his wings in this universe. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing though, as he was capable of flying some very long distances at high speed, but it was still a bummer. It would have been an efficient way of rounding everyone up if he could still have done that.

But he couldn't and he would have to live with that, which was hard considering the numerous things that he had seen.

Some of the images had been rather reassuring, such as the ones where Shoutmon and that human King, Aragorn was his name if he remembered correctly had been interacting with one another – those were rather nice to see. But the vast majority of those pictures had shown he and his friends in some kind of battle situation and from the things that he had been able to make out a lot of them had been very hectic and very violent.

That was nothing new to them of course. Xros Heart were veterans of violent battles, or at least a good deal of them were, but others, like Bastemon and Lunamon, were definitely not. He remembered that image of Lunamon where that gangly, skinny creature that he couldn't even begin to guess what it would be called and bore down and snarled at her. Lunamon had never fought a battle in her life – he remembered how she had to be saved from being crushed underneath Shoutmon X4B, a DigiXros that included him, when Blastmon had knocked them off their feet.

How would a tiny and innocent Digimon like her cope in a scenario like this?

And he couldn't be there to help?

He had to wonder what the Code Crown had been thinking. That is if the Code Crown could think at all, sometimes it was difficult to tell how sentient the Code Crown actually was considering it was mostly an inanimate object, except when it chose not to be. But Beelzemon had seen it choose Taiki over Bagramon, pull them out of the Dark Stone and teach Taiki about the Final Xros that had allowed X7 Superior Mode to rise up so it was definitely capable of some kind of thought and a lot of it.

But what had it been thinking this time? Sending some of the more practiced fighters, like himself and Shoutmon, Ballistamon and Dorulumon, Mervamon, Deckerdramon, Greymon, Sparrowmon and some of the others; those he could all understand. But the smaller ones like Lunamon, ChibiKamemon and Dondokomon, or the less combat capable such as Bastemon or indeed the Wisemon that was lying next to him right now – why had it sent all of them as well? Why had it felt the need to send the entire group and scatter them around in such a way rather than the ones that already knew battle well.

He understood that the Code Crown was intending for Shoutmon to take charge of his own troops this time, not following behind Taiki and actually making the decisions for the group, which had been one of the major things that had caused Shoutmon to start doubting his suitability for the role of the King. But all of them together? Even Taiki had only called out everyone from the Xros Loaders for the final battles against Tactimon and DarknessBagramon respectively, not like this.

Still, he had to assume that the Code Crown has its reasons. The Code Crown never did anything without a reason after all. Perhaps, in some way, this test was only designed to test Shoutmon, but the group as a whole in some way. But scattering them about like this, could it potentially be testing their integrity and resourcefulness and the bonds of their friendship? Or had there been an error in transit and they had all been supposed to arrive together or something?

No, that didn't sound right. Maybe the scattering was just unavoidable or something. After all being transported from one universe to another was bound to be quite haphazard wasn't it?

In any case, what was he supposed to do now?

He remembered what Galadriel had said to him before, about the 'role' that he had to play in all of this:-

_Your path lies not with Shoutmon. Not on this particular journey. Your road will lead down quite a different route… I am referring to another who will need your guidance, Beelzemon._

That's what she had said. And while Beelzemon, in reality, knew next to nothing about this woman, he could tell that she knew what she was talking about. Despite the Digimons' recent arrival into a world that had nothing to do with their own, she had known an incredible amount of things about them all, including himself, and the things that he had done while joining Xros Heart.

She knew things. And that Mirror was bound to be a help with that. If you could understand its meaning properly.

But Beelzemon remembered the collection of images close to the end that he had featured in – the ones that were apparently linked to his own future. And there had been one other person prevalent in those images and that one other person was presumably the one that Beelzemon was meant to be guiding. But he had never been able to discern who that person actually was, not through the training that he would apparently put them through, not through the battle in the image after… none of it.

Except there had been that final image. The one of the cheering crowd surrounding a pair of figures who were standing tall on a pile of rocks with fists raised into the air, obviously inspiring on the various forces around them. Beelzemon was sure one of those figures was an Elf woman. At least she had looked like an Elf, but there weren't that many physical differences between Elf and human and it had been so quick that it was a bit difficult to tell.

The other figure…

…well, again it had been difficult to make it out but he was pretty sure that he knew who that person had been. And he couldn't help but wonder. Since when had… that person… been a battle-ready, inspiring figurehead. Good for comforting and gentle, reassuring talks that lifted the emotions, yes. But a fighter… well, it _was_ a member of Xros Heart that had fought hard for their cause, and well as he remembered, but not often.

Beelzemon shook himself. Puzzling over all of this now really wasn't going to do him any favours at all. As Galadriel had said, he would learn everything in due course. And while those word might sound cliché, Beelzemon had enough experience to know that invariably when those words were used, it was true.

It was difficult but Beelzemon did his best to put it out of his mind, which decided to wander back to Mervamon, his beloved. He smiled fondly, worried about her but knowing that she was in good hands. He had seen her in the company of the man who would soon be meeting up with Shoutmon, according to Galadriel. She would soon be back in the presence and while she was definitely more than capable of kicking the ass of most anyone who dared to cross her, Shoutmon would ensure no harm came of her.

Yet, at the same time, he missed her terribly and knew that it would not get any easier with time. For if his path did not lie with Shoutmon as Galadriel had said, that meant that his path would not lie with Mervamon either. Until this whole situation had come to an end, he was unlikely to see her again. And that was not something that he liked the sound of at all.

* * *

He remembered well how they had first come together as a closer pair – through the battle on Hell's Field where they had fought together against the rampage of Bagra Army officer Lilithmon, who was determined to get her revenge against Beelzemon for humiliating her in the Sand Zone and helping destroy her HiMachinedramon. He, in turn, had been determined to bring her down in the name of all the other warriors that had perished at one another's hands at her doing. And he had defended Mervamon from her vicious attacks with his own body rather than see another person get hurt by his own archenemy.

It would appear that act had awakened a new feeling for him inside Mervamon's mind, though Beelzemon had not, at first, been conscious of it. He had just felt he had been doing what he felt to be right at the time. But he had noticed the way Mervamon had been worried about him and stuck close when he had been severely wounded by Lilithmon while Cutemon had tried to heal him. And she had tried to stop him from heading out and exerting himself when he had tried to help in the search for Yuu, indicating her concern about his welfare.

That had been when Beelzemon had started to suspect that Mervamon's feelings towards him might be starting to change to something else. And he had made a slight comment on it to see how Mervamon would react. "It's nice to know that somebody worries about me," he had said.

Mervamon had responded to this by flushing brightly and then slamming her Medullia arm into him hard enough to almost knock him off his feet, loudly claiming that that 'it wasn't like that.' Considering Beelzemon was injured at the time, that might not have been the best idea, but she quickly apologised and the two of them went off together.

They hadn't had a lot of time to figure things out between them, for later that very same day the battle with a now super-powered Lilithmon had continued and though Shoutmon X7 had managed to strike a crippling blow on her, she was not yet finished and so Beelzemon had thrust Mervamon and Cutemon, who had been trying to heal him on the wing while he battled, away to safety while he had turned around and sacrificed his life to take Lilithmon down for good.

Evidently this had had a big impact on Mervamon, because when Beelzemon was resurrected later on by the Code Crown, she had literally pounced on him hard enough to knock him to the crowd, tears free-falling down her face and dripping onto his own. And everything had proceeded from there. Mervamon could barely be detached from Beelzemon for days afterwards and made her intentions at a relationship extremely clear to him.

At first he hadn't really known how to take it. He had been a little freaked out by it actually – he had been dead during the time that Mervamon's feelings for him had built up due to her sorrow and guilt at being unable to prevent his passing, so Mervamon quite clearly had more feelings for him than he had for her at this stage.

But she was a powerful warrior and had a good heart, even though she tended to be a little 'forward' both in battle and with her feelings. She never took anything slowly. She would always charge straight in. And it had been a while before Beelzemon could tell her that he needed a bit of space to figure things out. But she had responded positively and told him that she would wait for his verdict, no matter how long it took him.

And it had not taken him very long.

He came to the verdict from watching from the shadow for a while that she was very similar to him. She was passionate about her duties and her feelings towards protecting the weaker. She was stubborn, refusing to give up even the simplest of tasks no matter how long it took her. She was outspoken, never failing to let her opinion be known, no matter what the topic. And she was kind and caring, taking in the younger Digimon under her wing and guiding them as best she could.

Plus she had the patience to wait until Beelzemon made his decision despite the fact she would often look up at him when she knew he was watching her with plaintive eyes, that let him know that she was getting increasingly anxious for his word.

Beelzemon had had to do a little soul-searching of his own before he could. What did he want now? His role at Taiki's guardian was over – the boy General had gained victory against the Bagra Army. He had no intention of leaving Xros Heart regardless, and no intention of giving up being a warrior. And from what he could discern, neither did she?

Did he want a relationship?

Yes, he decided. He would. He had never been in one before, for he had never had the time nor the inclination, focused on his warrior duties as he was. The fact that he pretended to fancy Lilithmon to stay close to her and investigate whether she might be the enemy he was looking for did not count. But now he had the time. The Digital World was at peace under Shoutmon's rule and there had not been any battles for some time.

And so he had feather-stepped, to use the term that Shoutmon had given his ability to cross portions of the Digital World instantly, up behind Mervamon and put a hand on her shoulder. She, assuming that she was under attack had swung around to aim a punch straight at his face, which he had caught in his own hand as he smiled at her. Mervamon had flinched, blinking and flushing in embarrassment as she realised she had almost attacked her crush and pulled back, looking embarrassed.

But he did not let go of her hand and before she could say anything though, he just said, "Yes."

Mervamon had blinked. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I will be your partner," he replied. "You are a spectacular womon, Mervamon, and I can think of none finer, nor any other that I would prefer to share my life with."

Mervamon blinked again, digesting Beelzemon's words… before she lunged forwards and crashed her lips to his, pulling her body against his own and her Medullia arm wrapping around the both of them at one, holding them together in a possessive gesture. Beelzemon had been momentarily started, but then he chuckled against Mervamon's lips and reciprocated and it did not take long before the two of them became a mated pair, bonded for life and neither willing to lose the other ever again.

Beelzemon smiled fondly at the memories. It had been an unusual time for them all, adjusting to a peaceful life, but nobody else whatsoever had been surprised when Mervamon had announced that they were now mated and a big party had been held in celebration.

Now the two of them were separated and it pained Beelzemon to know that even though he could go and rejoin her, apparently he wasn't going to. How long would it be before they were reunited again? How long would he have to wait? How long would _she_? She didn't know about all this stuff about Beelzemon's discerned path and role that would take him away from her. What if she worried about him all the time he was off doing that, wondering if he could somehow get a message to her.

* * *

"Nggh," a grunt from the slumbering Wisemon broke him out of his thoughts. "No. Don't come any closer. No… not… the _pineapple_! Anything but the pineapple."

"Oh, for Heaven Zone's sake," Beelzemon muttered. "Of all things to have a nightmare about… pineapples? Really? How can a pineapple possibly be scary?"

He bopped Wisemon on the head with the back of his hand again. "Huwhuh?" Wisemon blinked coherently. "Oh lord that was a bad one."

"About pineapples? Really?" Beelzemon muttered, deadpan. "Who in their right mind is scared of a pineapple?" he added, unaware that several dimensions away a bunny-like Digimon called a Terriermon sneezed at his words.

"You never know. Anything can be scary in the right circumstances. Even a dishcloth or a pacifier."

"Now that I would love to see," Beelzemon snickered. "An evil pacifier? Do me a favour."

"You should get some sleep while you can, Beelzemon," Wisemon replied. "Tomorrow could bring us any number of new surprises in a world as different to ours at this."

"Sound advice," Beelzemon agreed. "Very well, I'll do what I can."

"Right, good night." Wisemon nodded, settling back down to await his next nightmare. Beelzemon stood up and walked a short distance away, hoping to be out of range of Wisemon's mutterings, before he settled down against the trunk of another giant Mallorn tree and forced himself into a doze, his thoughts continuing to dwell on Mervamon even as he slept.

* * *

The Sun rising the following morning caused a collage of lights to filter down through the leaves and bathe everything in the golden colour of the leaves. Beelzemon rose as the light streamed through his eyelids and roused him. He sat up and saw Wisemon was still asleep, but a shuffling of leaves from nearby told him that he was not alone. Looking over, he could see and Elvish child – a small girl that couldn't have been older than six in human terms. Who knew how long it took for an Elf to reach adulthood. Probably the same as a human really, but they just went on and on living.

When the child saw that Beelzemon had noticed her, she backed away, looking like she was going to bolt, but Beelzemon just smiled at her and raised his arm in a soothing gesture. "Hey," he said. "No need to fear me, small one. I'm not going to eat you or anything."

The girl looked a little shy, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear a little awkwardly. "Um," she said. "I just wanted to see the newcomers that everyone was talking about for myself. Sorry I woke you up, you Honour?"

"Oh, you didn't wake me up – the Sun did that," Beelzemon smiled gently. "What's your name, small one?"

"Sindria," the girl replied. "What is yours?"

"I am Beelzemon," he replied. "A Digimon of Xros Heart. You have nothing to fear from me or any of my friends and companions. We do not harm small children, or anyone that doesn't deserve it."

"You're quite nice, Master Beelzemon," Sindria cocked her head. "But some of the other Elves are saying that you're a Demon, like a Balrog of Morgoth. They aren't sure what you are, but nobody would hurt you because you've received the blessing of Lady Galadriel? But are you really like one of those Balrogs? I heard that they were some of the most terrible of beings back in the First Age, and a lot of them are old enough to have been around then."

"Well, I don't really know how to answer that," Beelzemon replied. "I have never heard of a Balrog before. They sound dangerous."

"They are," Sindria nodded. "But I'm not scared. I would shoot one in the eye with an arrow. See how it likes that."

"I am sure you would," Beelzemon laughed. "But to answer your question, I am not like a Balrog, but I suppose you could say that I am a Demon, yes. But not all Demons are evil – that is just a common misconception. Though I won't deny that most Demons definitely are evil, am not one of those Demons. You can trust me."

Sindria had shrunk back a little at Beelzemon's first words there, but she had steadily been drawn back into the conversation. "That sounds… astounding."

"Astounding is it?" Beelzemon laughed, not having expecting a child her age to know of such a word. Maybe the adult Elves used that word quite a lot of something and so she had learnt its meeting for themselves.

"Yesm" Sindria nodded. "But what about your friend. Some of the other Elves say he looks like a Ringrwraith with eyes and that he's very strange."

"Well I can certainly concur with the second option," Beelzemon laughed. "But Wisemon is no wraith. He is a steadfast and capable Digimon, just as I am, though he is far, far cleverer than I could ever be.

"Why thank you for the praise, Beelzemon," Wisemon said having heard the conversation and woken up as a result of it, pushing himself back up and approaching the small girl. "How fascinating. Such a young age for such long-lived race. No more than a pinprick of an existence right now, if that, wouldn't you say?"

Sinidra froze a little fearfully a Wisemon bent over and pulled her eyelids back to peer into her eye, then looked into her ear, before reaching towards her mouth and pulling her lips apart, reaching inside to pull out her tongue and examine it like it was a fascinating specimen. Sindria grunted as Wisemon eyed her tongue with scrutiny, muttering – "If only I had a cheek swab; I could get a good look at your DNA and find out what makes you so different from humans, for you look almost exactly the same. I don't suppose you'd mind me pulling out a couple of your teeth an eyelashes would you?"

"Hnngh?" Sindria blanched with her tongue still extended.

"Hey, Wisemon," Beelzemon pushed himself up and took the other Digimon's shoulder in one hand, allowing the young to pull her tongue back in and clamp her teeth shut. "You remember how I said there are times when you should reign in your enthusiasm and not ask people if they can remove any part of their anatomy?"

"Yes?" Wisemon asked.

"Well, that was one of those times," Beelzemon snorted.

"Ah," Wisemon nodded sagely. "My apologies, little one. And Beelzemon, when is a good time to make requests like that?"

"Never, Wisemon. Never," Beelzemon patted him on the back.

"Aaww," Wisemon muttered.

"You two are funny," Sindria smiled, but immediately clamped her lip shut just in case Wisemon went for her tongue again.

"I'm glad to hear it," Beelzemon said. "But as of right now, I am hungry and I could do with a decent breakfast. You too, Wisemon – you don't want to go passing out because you've been too focused to eat for days, like that time that you and Taiki met for the first time, huh?"

"You have to keep bringing that up?" Wisemon asked.

"It's a good thing that you did though," Beelzemon grinned. "If you had gone ahead with your original plan of dissecting Taiki then I would have been forced to find you and dissect you myself."

"Well, on that cheery note," Wisemon murmured, "Let's find something to eat."

"Follow me," Sindria said excitedly. "I can get some nice food for you."

* * *

A short distance away, unseen by either of the two Digimon, Galadriel was watching them carefully. She was doing it through the mirror, using it like a scrying bowl to watch the pair of extra-dimensional beings that had suddenly entered her domain.

Truth be told, she knew very little about either of them, beyond what she could discern from their minds, which was quite a lot actually. Yet, never before had she come across being with minds that confused her as much as they did. The concept of their Digital World composed of the substance known as data, and all the things about computers and data and electricity and DigiXrosing. All of it was mind-boggling even to her, and she had walked in the lands of Middle Earth for over ten-thousand years now, since the days of the First Age.

She found them fascinating and yet totally bizarre at the same time. They were riddles wrapped within riddles and the things that she had seen and learned about the various other Digimon did not help her to make sense of any of it. All these different shapes and forms and abilities they had. Quite frankly it was mind-blowing.

She could not remember the time she had last been so puzzled.

Yet, despite her uncertainty about a lot of things, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they could be trusted.

Galadriel had always been in tune with the ways of the world, able to sense things that even most of her kin could not. Trustworthiness was something that anyone had to earn, but though Galadriel could not always tell why, she always knew when someone could and couldn't. When Sauron had started his time amongst the Elves, disguised as a traveller and helping them to create the Rings of Power, she had known that there was something fishy about it all. But the other Elves had been so enamoured with Sauron's teachings that most of them had thought that she was wrong.

Not so, as it turned out.

Now, there was something of an opposite situation going on here. She knew that Beelzemon and Wisemon were more than trustworthy, but many of the other Elves were not quite so sure. Having learned from past mistakes, they were willing to give the two Digimon the benefit of the doubt if Galadriel said they could be trusted, but they didn't necessarily believe it themselves.

This was hardly surprising. Galadriel was not a god. Her word was not absolute, even if it was usually spot on. And she could be as tempted by darkness as anyone else. She knew that, for she had felt the same desire to possess the One Ring when it had entered Caras Galadhon as any high-powered being would. She never had any desire to have the other Elves follow her blindly like sheep, even though they always did put enormous amounts of faith in her and her decisions.

But Galadriel had seen some of their exploits in the Mirror. And quite frankly some of the things that they had accomplished stunned her. She remembered vividly the images of Beelzemon battling ferociously against a myriad of enemies at a time, merging with several of his companions to form an even more powerful single being, sacrificing his very life for the sake of his friends only to be called back at a later stage.

They were marvels.

Now the other Elves had to see it for themselves. They had no reason to trust the Digimon beyond the word of their Lady. And she could not blame them. After all, Beelzemon did not exactly _look_ like a being of the light in all senses. His black wings and three red eyes and that enormous thing… a cannon, as he had called it… attached to his arm, did give him a rather demonic appearance.

Still, perhaps being seen with that child would do some good for that image. Provided Wisemon could refrain from plucking out some of her hairs that is.

* * *

Some distance away from Caras Galadhon, Haldir the Elven Captain was standing on an elevated platform, high up in the trees, the wooden structure elegantly curved around the trunk, connected by various narrow bridges to other platforms, and screened from view from below by the leaves unless someone was to look directly up and see them. The only way up and down other than climbing the tree trunks directly themselves would be via the rope ladders that had been rolled up on the ledges.

This was an outpost at the borders of Lothlórien. As soon as Haldir had delivered the strange newcomers to the Lord and Lady he had returned to his duties as a protector of the borders, and that was a job that rarely required much of him really. In the past few months the only visitors to the woods that he had come across beside the two from earlier were the Fellowship members themselves.

Few dared to enter the Golden Wood these days. Their fear of the Lady Galadriel kept them at bay, and to be honest the Elves preferred it that way. They were not over-fond of visitors and preferred to keep to themselves, so while they knew of the rumours that Galadriel was an Elf-witch who casted spells on anyone that came near her domain and never let them leave, disappearing to a fate of who knew what, they did nothing to stop them. Most of them rarely ever left the wood, in fact.

Haldir stepped up to one of the Elvish sentries, posted on his own small platform. "Any sign?" he asked.

"Nothing, as normal," the Elven sentry replied.

"We must not get complacent," Haldir advised him. "Something is ill in the land. A feeling on unease is growing inside me as Sauron's influence spreads farther and farther out into the reaches of Middle Earth."

"You believe that those strange newcomers could have something to do with that?" the sentry asked.

"I do not know what to make of either of them," Haldir murmured. "But the Lady trusts them and so do I. I spoke with that darker-looking one and he certainly did not feel foul. In fact, quite the opposite. I felt a slight light within him myself. And the way he spoke to the Lady, referring to the Goddess from his own world… I do not know what to expect of them but I do not feel it to be ill."

The Elf sentry was about to reply, but then his head cocked, his ears twitching and his pose tensing. Haldir was instantly on the alert and hunkered down to listen himself, raising a hand to silence any other muttering around them. Sure enough, there was a noise – the noise of clunking armour and slight growling, drawing closer and closer with each passing breath."

"That can only be one thing," Haldir breathed. "Elves do not make such a noise as they pass." With a swift and decisive hand signal he summoned several of the other Elves to him, a network of signals passing quickly along the outpost from platform to platform, the Elves rallying on the edges and drawing arrows from quivers, fitting them to their bowstrings and pointing down below, waiting for the clunking and stamping of feet to grow closer.

Haldir drew his own arrow and pulled it taut on the string just as that happened. A rabble of snarling, hissing and spitting humanoids surged out of the trees from below them, storming in their direction but not looking up towards them. They were definitely Orcs, no question about it, but Haldir's eyes widened as he saw them. They were not goblins of the mountains to the West as he had previously thought they would be. They were more upright, taller but still relatively squat – they were Orcs from the South.

Mordor Orcs.

"So the range of Sauron has come still further than expected," Haldir muttered, before he loosed an arrow into the pack of orcs below. The other Elves took that as their cue and followed a split second later, a solid barrier of arrows falling down into the front-runners to cut them down where they ran, with howls and screeches as the perfectly aimed arrows thudded into their bodies with inept precision, dropping them to the ground in heaps.

The other orcs screeched and kept running, dashing over the bodies of their fallen with no respect for the dead, often stamping on them as they passed. Haldir grimaced. They had not been anticipating such an attack, and such a small outpost as this would not be likely to hold such a pack back for long, especially if fired on only from above. Right after loosing another arrow that struck an Orc straight in the forehead, Haldir ran backwards and called, "Elves, to me! We must prevent further progress into the woods!"

Several Elves hurried to obey while the others continued with the arrow rain. Haldir ran over to a bird sitting on a perch nearby – a sparrowhawk and a distant relative of the Giant Eagles of the mountains, but only a distant one.

"Return to Caras Galadhon," Haldir instructed the bird. "Warn the Lord and Lady of the approaching orcs."

The bird shrieked and sprang off its perch. Most raptors were more used to open sky than dense woodland but the sparrowhawk handled it with ease, shooting through narrow gaps in tree branches that it didn't look capable of fitting through as it winged its way back towards the Elven stronghold. Once it had gone, Haldir ran to the nearest rolled up rope ladder, seizing the end and springing right off the platform, the ladder uncoiling behind him as he pulled himself up it so his foot was resting on the bottom rung.

The ladder jerked to a halt right before Haldir hit the floor, allowing him to step off and stand before the now much closer Orc hoard. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the tide of Orcs stretching back into the trees in the distance. They had had raiding parties from the mountains before, but this was no raiding party. This was a full-fledged assault. This was an army.

Sauron was really on the move. And attacking the Golden Wood was indeed a bold play.

The Orcs had spotted Haldir and were racing towards him, abandoning their previous attempts to locate the archers that were firing down on them, many more being felled as they ran by arrows flying in from above. Haldir drew his bow and fired his own contribution into their ranks, and other Elves were dropping down around him on ladders of their own and doing the same thing, forming a line and firing off arrow after arrow as the Orcs closed in.

The Orcs charged in, waving their swords wildly even as the arrows mowed them down, some of them swinging their blades _so_ wildly that they actually cut down their allies next to them and didn't even notice it. More Elves began to descend down the ladders at speed and with often inhuman grace. Some of them didn't even use their hands, stepping down the ladders with feet only as they continued to fire off arrows, before they sprang to the ground and joined the line.

"For the Red Eye!" yelled an Orc, right before an arrow caught him in the throat.

"Swords!" Haldir yelled, as the advancing Orcs eventually drew too close for comfort and the Elves quickly stowed their bows and drew their long curved blades. Several Orc archers behind the ranks of swordsmen fired upon them, though many of the Elves were able to leap nimbly aside or even block with blade in one instance, but two Elves were still caught by the arrows and fell, one dead and the other severely wounded.

Then the Orcs finally crashed upon the Elvish ranks. They were repelled almost immediately by the swift and practiced strokes of the Elves, each one of them swinging their blades at pretty much exactly the same time in exactly the same motion, slicing through Orcs that were unlucky enough to be at the front and pushing them back as more Elves descended from on high and sprang behind to form further ranks.

But the Orcs where not deterred for more than a second and they lunged again, everything from that point on delving into complete chaos, the forces of Mordor hacking madly with their blades and bodily flinging themselves on the Elven warriors, tackling several of them to the ground and bringing up blades to strike down, only for several of the Elves nearby to cut through them before they could kill their comrades. It quickly delved into a free-for-all on the front lines, with Elf and Orc slamming blades towards each other with furious energy, the Elves leaning towards swift and precise strokes, while the Orcs just hacked madly and hoped for the best.

Neither side was without casualty in the conflict that began to arise. Several Elves succumbed to the furious energy and brutal fighting style of the Orcs, arrows thudding into them from nearby, or the viciously hooked and spiked blades of the orcs hacking into chinks of their armour if they happened to be wearing any, while many orcs were slain with sleek strokes of steel from the Elven warriors, who dodged backwards and forwards, nimble on their feet, but not always nimble enough.

It was clear to see that from an individual standpoint the Elves were clearly the better fighters. They slashed and span with incredible grace, reading one another's movements and never blocking the progress of another Elf. But while the Orcs were a complete rabble of disorganised fighters in comparison, they just kept coming, pressing forwards and slamming their blades forward with all their strength.

Arrows continued to fly from the Elven side, from up above where the Elves were in relative safety and from the ground, where the Elves who could not be a part of the front line fired over the heads of their comrades, the shafts sailing overhead and whistling through the air to fall amongst the Orc ranks and drop several others. Whenever and Elf fell in the front line, the nearest archer would run forward to fill the gap, drawing sword in the process and aiding the fight as best they could.

Several of the Orc archers were shooting upwards into the canopy, trying to find and hit the Elves that were shooting at them from above. Most of their arrows crashed into the woodwork beneath the platforms, but one unlucky Elf leaning over the side to fire another shot was struck in the chest and fell with a cry, dropping into the Orc ranks where his body disappeared underfoot very quickly…

Haldir was in the thick of things at the centre of the line. He spun around to lop an Orc's head clean off and spun his blade under-arm to plunge the blade through another's chest, withdrawing it before it had a chance to drop and whirling about to face the front, cleaving his sword downwards into the shoulder of another and sweeping it up to block the strike of a fourth aimed at his face. With a flick of his sword he disarmed the orc in question and caught the blade by the handle, thrusting it into the gut of the Orc owner before he ducked beneath the strike of another and lifted a leg at a nearly impossible angle even for an Elf to kick him in the chin and send him flying backwards.

"Hold the line, Elves!" Haldir called, batting aside a sword-strike from the right and slashing across the Orc to his left before sweeping the blade around to bisect the orc that had struck at him with nearly one fluid motion. "Stand firm!" he added, leaning around another slash and cutting the Orc perpetrator's hand off before bulling him to the ground with one shoulder, stepping over him to cut through another orc and then spinning his blade around to stab downwards into the handless one on the floor. "We must protect the Golden Wood."

He grimaced, even as he blocked another sword blow the Elf to his immediate left was struck in the gut by a mace and went down. Haldir cried out and shoved the sword away, avenging his friend by hack into the one with the mace across the side. Despite the Elves best efforts and their great skill, they were being pushed backwards. This was not a fight they could win on their own and he knew it, but he was hoping to bide as much time as he could before he called a retreat, so that the Lord and Lady could organise a better defence.

Who would have thought the minions of Sauron would have spread as far as this already?

* * *

Beelzemon and Wisemon still with the little Elf girl, Sindria, talking to her and telling her all about themselves and their friends, when the sound of a horn went off – a high and reedy horn that echoed throughout the entire glade. All the Elves nearby immediately looked up, with wide eyes and Sindria gasped in shock.

"What is it?" Beelzemon asked, looking around at the various reactions. "What's going on?"

"That's the attack horn," replied Sindria with wide eyes. "That horn means that there's something coming this way."

"That does not sound good," Wisemon observed. "Could it be these Orcs that I have heard mention of?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Sindria replied nervously.

"Get home as fast as you can," Beelzemon told her, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Wisemon, with me!" And he sprang into the air with wings flared, Wisemon following his example a moment later as Sindria scrambled away towards the waiting arms of her parents.

The two Digimon swept up the side of the nearest Mallorn tree and came to rest in the same place they had met Galadriel and Celeborn for the first time yesterday. The Lord and Lady were standing together with several other Elves, talking with one another urgently, and there was a sparrowhawk sitting on a nearby railing.

"What is it?" Beelzemon asked, running forward. "What's going on? That horn was to signify an attack?"

"Yes, Digimon," Celeborn nodded. "This hawk just arrived with news from one of the eastern outposts. A tide of Orcs appears to be heading our way. Our sentries are holding them off now, but they will have to retreat soon."

"You need not fear, Beelzemon," Galadriel raised a calming hand. "The threat is only in the Outer Woods, so far, and there is no evil threat that can enter Caras Galadhon without my permission. The threat will not reach this land."

"You are certain?" Beelzemon asked.

"Yes," Galadriel nodded. "I do have some… certain skills. And the Ring of Adamant is a powerful force indeed." She held up her hand, and the white, flower-shaped adornment on her finger glinted in the light. She was quite right too – Nenya, as the Ring was called – was an incredible force that lent Galadriel even greater power than she already possessed. The assault that the Orcs had begun on Lothlórien was a foolhardy one, for Nenya and Galadriel's power were vast and literally spurned evil away from the Elvish settlements. There was only one evil that could overcome this force, and that would be if Sauron himself, possessing the One Ring, came to Lothlórien to overthrow it in person.

The Orcs assault, in short, was actually doomed to fail already.

"But that will not stop them," Celeborn stated. "That will not stop them from ravaging and destroying our woodland wherever they can reach, and we must prevent that where we can."

Beelzemon's gaze hardened. "Where is the fighting?" he asked. "Where is the battle taking place?"

"To the East," repeated Celeborn.

"Where exactly?" Beelzemon asked, lifting his cannon. "I cannot stand by in the knowledge that there are those losing their lives nearby."

Celeborn hesitated. "You wish to head out immediately?" he asked. "I fear that might not be a wise course of…"

Galadriel calmly placed a hand over her husband's own and smiled. "Relax, my Lord. Beelzemon is right. He cannot turn his back on us, am I right?" she asked with a smile.

"Your knowledge of our lives is beginning to scare me," Beelzemon noted.

Galadriel nodded. "If you wish to help then follow the sparrowhawk. He can take you back to the battle area. But though I have confidence in you, I feel obligated to warn you that it is dangerous out there."

"Danger is nothing new to me," Beelzemon replied. "But thanks for the warning. Now come on, let's go. Wisemon, are you coming or going?"

"I may as well tag along," Wisemon nodded. "I wish to see what these Orc creatures look like for myself."

"You may not like what you see," Celeborn murmured.

The sparrowhawk, at a nod from Galadriel, shrieked and took to the wing once again, shooting out across the platform and dipping below the branches, wings folding in to fit through the tight gaps in the golden foliage. Beelzemon followed without a moments hesitation, spreading his wings out and proving to be quite nimble in flight, veering around the branches that the sparrowhawk passed through, dipping beneath and rising above them in a zig-zag pattern as he flew through the forest at high speed.

Wisemon followed at a more sedate pace, staying a little further back but keeping them in sight. He never really did anything in a rush, even physical actions such as this, for he felt that there was a much greater chance of making a mis-step or a mistake if he did.

* * *

It didn't take long for Beelzemon to reach the battle-field – less than ten minutes or so. But by this point, the battle had already been going for some time, and it was beginning to tell. Several Elves from the nearby outposts had received the message and heard the sounds of battle and come to join Haldir's platoon and increase the numbers of defenders. But there were simply too many Orcs and though the bodies of the disgusting creatures were beginning to pile up and the number of dead Orcs significantly outweighed the number of dead Elves, the lives Orcs just pushed the bodies of their comrades aside with no care or respect for them and hammered their way in.

Haldir grimaced as he fought hard. He knew that the Elven settlements would be safe from attack with Galadriel's protection but he and the other Elves would never just retreat to safety. They could never allow the Orcs to just tramp over their outlying ground and do whatever they wished, even though there was nobody even living on the outskirts of the Golden Wood. It was their home and the woods were their life. They would never allow it to be desecrated as long as they had breath in their bodies.

Beelzemon approached the battle from behind, settling on a tree branch briefly to assess the situation and coming to the conclusion that the Elves were being forced back under the weight of numbers. Some of the Orcs were trying to climb the rope ladders into the trees, but they were always shot down before they could get further than a few rungs and the Elves that were still in the trees pulled the ladders up and out of their reach, but now they would be stranded up in those tree unless something was done.

Beelzemon grimaced and charged his cannon, levelling it forwards and taking careful aim at the Orc armies, determined not to hit any of the Elves and charging his Death the Cannon, the weapon crackling as it filled with power…

…Only for Wisemon to suddenly place a hand on it and lower it towards the ground, with a firm, "No, Beelzemon. You must not."

"What?" Beelzemon asked, looking across at him. "Why not?"

"Your cannon is too powerful a weapon," Wisemon replied. "This is the Elves' home and they treasure every tree in it. To have Berenjena on a level high enough to kill one of those… foul looking terrors… you would risk causing severe damage to the environment around you and the Elves would never appreciate that, no matter how good your intentions were."

Beelzemon grimaced, but knew Wisemon was right. The Digimon did spend most of his time trying to learn more, so he was more than likely to have learned this directly from the Elves some time previously.

"Very well," Beelzemon nodded. "Then please, hold this and stash it somewhere safe." And he detached the main bulk of Berenjena from his arm, leaving the short but powerful chaingun he really had for an arm within that powered the blasts for the main cannon. Wisemon caught the main bulk of the cannon which was surprisingly light, as Beelzemon swept forwards, drawing his pistol from his leg holster narrowing his eyes as he swept high towards the Elves.

"Incoming!" he roared at the top of his voice, alerting everyone on the battlefield to his presence and pointing the chain-gun forwards and letting rip right into the ranks of the Orcs. The high-velocity bolts of green streamed out of the tips like a hail of energy bullets and showered over the nearest Orcs, slamming and burning into them and dropping the vicious creatures where they stood. Beelzemon swept his arm out wide, sending the streaming bolts firing over masses of the orcs, dropping them wherever he decided to point his arm next.

"Beelzemon," Haldir gasped as the Digimon winged his way overhead to hover just above him. The demonic looking Digimon smirked at the Orcs who quailed at the sight of him, backing away briefly and unsure what to make of this new addition to the battle.

"I came to offer my assistance," Beelzemon replied, folding his wings in behind him as much as he could while staying airborne. "Not that you necessarily needed it, but I was not about to stay behind."

"Get it!" snarled an Orc, loosing an arrow at him. Beelzemon shot the arrow right out of the air with a single blast from his shotgun and the Orcs set up a rather high-pitched wail of shock at the mere sight of it.

"You want to try that again?" Beelzemon growled warningly.

The Orcs hesitated for a moment but there was a roaring from somewhere within their ranks a moment later that seemed to kickstart them into action and they surged forwards again with furious snarls, determined to continue their assault and do some damage even against the newcomer who attacked in strange ways.

"Elves, rally together!" Haldir called. "Drive them out from our home."

"And count me in on that," Beelzemon growled, swooping forwards and bodily slamming several Orcs backwards with his mighty wings, slamming them hard enough to break bones – the swan has mightily powerful wings and yet they are nothing when compared to Beelzemon's. Beelzemon landed on the ground with a skidding motion, bashing several other Orcs aside with his body as he ploughed through them and then swung around, beating an Orc over the head with his chaingun and jamming the tip of his shotgun into another's stomach, blasting it backwards the moment he pulled the trigger and crashing it into several others.

The Elves surged up around him, emboldened by their new companion in most cases, though a few hung back, a little uncertain about what to do about this strange new being that had suddenly entered their midst.

But as an arrow streamed forwards towards one of those hesitating Elves, Beelzemon leapt in the way and batted the arrow aside with his chaingun but gunning down the Orc responsible with a well-aimed shot to the forehead. That pretty much decided things for the rest of the Elves and they surged forwards anew, arrows flying and swords swinging as they delved into the Orc hordes once more.

Beelzemon was in the thick of things, laying into the enemy. If he had been able to use his cannon without severely damaging the trees around them then he could have torn far greater chunks out of the enemy forces by this point, but as it was he was cutting through a swathe of them right now. He spun himself around, rapidly extending his wings to smack out behind him like a pair of clubs to bash two Orcs across the face and sweeping around with a kick that slew another Orc on the spot because the spikes on his boots planted themselves into its stomach like three sets of knives.

The powerful Digimon finished the spin and blocked another rusty blade with his shotgun, thrusting it backwards and discharging a shot straight into the Orc's abdomen and then sprang upwards, flaring his wings as another one swung a mace at him. The mace sailed harmlessly underneath him and Beelzemon crashed down onto the Orcs' shoulders, flattening him where he stood. He then raised the chaingun on his arm and pointed it right in front of him at the other Orcs.

They squealed at the sight of it, but they only had time for that before they were cut down by the hail of energy bullets that were poured into them, several of them passing straight though the Orcs to impact on the bodies of the Orcs behind them as well.

The Elves watched in amazement as Beelzemon lorded it over the Orcs. None of them could even get close to him without being slammed aside, the warrior Digimon whirling in all directions like black-feathered tornado. They kept up their own assault of course, swinging sword and firing arrow, but their eyes kept tracking back to Beelzemon to watch him in action. They'd never encountered anything like a gun before and seeing his method of fighting was… bizarre in the extreme for all of them.

The Orcs were similarly amazed, but they were now beginning to hesitate out of fear of attacking this one individual that stood out from the crowd in such a manner. They could gain now ground on him and swinging a sword at him, thus far, had managed to do no more damage that having a couple of feathers pulled out with one lucky stroke, before the perpetrator was blasted back with a bolt of green energy.

Beelzemon sprang upwards, crashing the toe of his boot into the nose of another Orc and dropping him like a pile of bricks, before he cut across to the side with a tilt of his wings, avoiding several arrows that were cast at him in the process, so that they thudded harmlessly into a tree-trunk behind him. Beelzemon winged his way around another trunk and swept low over the Orc ranks, blasting downwards with his chaingun, the shots pelting down like some kind of green rain that spelled death for any Orc that got in their path.

The Orcs screeched and backed away and the Elves pursued with a roar, all of them on the ground stashing their bows away and drawing their blades, charging in with greater renewed vigour than ever and slaying anything that didn't get out of the way quick enough. Beelzemon swept around for another pass, cutting another swathe in the ranks of the Orcs with his chaingun as he passed, before he swung around yet again for a repeat performance.

One Orc, that was standing on a rock some way back and trying to survey the battle as it waved a banner painted with a large eye, screeched guttural instructions to the other Orcs and pointed at Beelzemon, yelling in their own Black tongue to take him down and to do it now. But most of the other Orcs were now petrified, baring their teeth fearfully, unsure what they were supposed to be doing now. So the Orc Captain snarled and punched a subordinate that was holding a crudely created spear in one hand, wrenched the spear out of his grasp and hurled it like a javelin right at the incoming Beelzemon.

Beelzemon spun around in the air and blocked the javelin with a kick, his boot sweeping into the pole just past the metallic head at the end of the spear and flipping it sideways and away, the spearpoint burying itself in an archer Orc that was about to try firing another arrow at him. The Orc Captain gaping in disbelief and quailed when Beelzemon's gaze focused on him. But then the Digimon shot away instead, and the Captain sighed in momentary relief, glad that he had not been singled out.

That was the point where Beelzemon wheeled around, and shot straight towards him from the side, stowing his shotgun back in its holster as he held out one arm, his fingers sharpening into claws as he growled, **"DARKNESS CLAW!"**

The Orc Captain never saw him coming, and moments later Beelzemon claws had slashed across his front, slaying him instantly where he stood. As he tumbled off the rocks, Beelzemon caught the banner with the eye on it and shredded it before it could fall to the ground, landing on the rocks surrounded by the Orcs and drawing his shotgun once again, firing rapid bursts from both it and the chaingun into the ranks of the orcs on either side of him.

Most of the Orcs decided then that they had had enough. They weren't ready to tackle powerful opponents like this, and they immediately all turned and ran, dashing in a mad scramble of tripping and stumbling over the numerous bodies of their fallen to get back the way they had come. Beelzemon gave them a few parting shots as they dashed past him to the best of their ability, fleeing out towards the edges of the forest.

The Elves let loose and almighty cheer and charged forwards with swords at the ready, slashing at the backs of retreating Orcs. Beelzemon looked alarmed by their actions for a moment and winged his way towards them, hovering over Haldir and demanding, "What are you doing? You can't attack an enemy that is in retreat like this can you?"

"If they were not Orcs or other members of that species then we would spare them," Haldir replied firmly. "But no good will come of sparing an Orc – they will only come back again for more. No Orc will ever have a change of heart and if we do not cut down as many as we can now, then they will only go on to pillage and burn and slay elsewhere if not back here once again. And we must make sure regardless that they do leave the Forest borders."

Beelzemon hesitated, but he remembered that these Elves were all much older than they looked and they probably had much more experience with this sort of enemy than he did. So he just nodded and followed on, emptying another round from his chaingun as he did so, though not feeling particularly proud about it. Still, if what Haldir said was true, then he would be doing somebody somewhere a favour with this act.

But then something else caught his attention. "Do you smell smoke?" he asked.

"Smoke?" Haldir's head shot up, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, look, coming from ahead," Beelzemon nodded. "And I can see light too. Orange light… they've set fire to the forest."

There were cries of rage from the Elves and they surged forwards wildly, determined to find and put a stop to this. Haldir yelled out to the others, ordering several of them to go back and get some buckets of water from the platforms, which they rushed to do, while the others drove the Orcs onwards and out towards the edge of the woods.

Haldir and the others dashed towards the flames, ignoring the smoke as best they could. Beelzemon peeled away and followed them, and they came across an area that had at least five Mallorn trees blazing, and a sixth just beginning to catch fire. Several Orcs were dancing around the flames, cackling madly as they struck flint and tinder together next to the sixth tree, trying to kick-start the fire.

Haldir was about to draw an arrow from his quiver when Beelzemon beat him to it, charging forwards with a roar of, "HOW DARE YOU DESECRATE THE HOMELAND OF THESE ELVES! HOW DARE YOU?!" And he swung up his chaingun to let flying with ruthless precision, gunning the Orcs down where they stood before they could even think about yelling at the sight of the winged Demon swirling out of the flames to blast them into oblivion.

Haldir looked momentarily stunned at Beelzemon's ferocity, but he and the other Elves that were not pursuing the Orcs quickly separated outwards, pulling off their cloaks and beating madly at the fire with them, trying to save the Mallorn trees that were groaning beneath the flames that washed over their lengths. The Lórien cloaks that the Elves wore were resistant to flames, so they successfully managed to put out an amount of the fire while the cloaks themselves remained unblemished but it was not nearly enough. The entire height of the trees was going up and the fire was beginning to spread to other trees nearby.

It wasn't long before a pair of Elves ran up with a bucket of water between them – one solitary bucket. "It's not enough, Haldir," one of them cried. "We don't have enough to put this out and the river Celebrant is some distance away."

"We cannot give up," Haldir yelled. "We will not abandon these trees!"

Beelzemon flapped nearby, powerless to help and watching with gritted teeth as the Elves hurried forward with their bucket, preparing to throw it on the fire, for all the good it would do, when, "Wait!" called a voice which stilled the Elves, and suddenly Wisemon was there, moving between the trees and hovering above the bucket-carrying Elves.

"Allow me to help," Wisemon called over the crackling flames and the plume of smoke rising into the air. "I may have the solution here. Beelzemon, you can go and help with the last of those Orcs. I will handle things here." And he raised his hands, conjuring the yellow and red time-space stones from thin air above his palms, which rotated around wildly until Berenjena appeared from thin air right in front of Wisemon, who directed it over to the Demon Digimon. Beelzemon caught it and re-attached it to his chaingun, forming the complete cannon again, and nodded at his fellow Digimon.

"Do it, Wisemon," he said, before he turned and flapped away to catch up with the Orc Army.

Wisemon lowered himself down, the stones still rotating above his hands and nodded. "You may throw the bucket now."

The Elves were nonplussed for a moment – why in the name of Middle Earth had they been asked to wait to do that when there was a raging fire going on right next to them. But they quickly responded anyway without questioning it and tossed the water on the fire. The bucketload washed out a fair amount of the fire at the base of one tree, which sizzled and died with a puff of steam and a wet patch on the dead grass, but that was all it did and the trees were still burning, forcing the Elves to step back from the sheer heat of it.

But Wisemon just said, "Perfect," and raised his hands, the time-space stones glinting in the flickering, blazing light of the fire. And Wisemon then cried, **"PANDORA DIALOGUE!"**

The Elves watched in bemusement, and then sudden amazement as a bucket of water suddenly appeared in front of water – one that was exactly the same as the bucket the Elves were holding but filled to the brim, and then the bucket threw its own contents onto another part of the fire. And as the Elves looked around, more buckets were appearing all over the place, all the same size and shape and all filled with water, all of them throwing the water within them to slosh onto the blazing trees and put out the fires beneath them with more wet sizzles.

All across the length, breadth and height of the trees this was happening all at once, and soon there were hundreds of the exact same bucket throwing water on the fire, creating a huge cloud of steam that washed upwards like a great big geyser. In a matter of half a minute, the fire had been completely put out, the buckets throwing water over all of it from the canopy to the ground.

"That was… that was…" Haldir breathed, unable to muster the words as the empty buckets began to fade away.

"You're welcome," chuckled Wisemon. "My time-space stones have the ability to record specific events in time and space and replay them at will as many times as I like. I recorded the bucket throwing the water and replicated it many hundreds of times to the effect that the whole fire was put out. I do hope that your trees will recover from this, but at least your forest outlands are now safe from the blaze."

Most of what Wisemon said made little sense to Haldir, but the blond Elf Captain turned to look at Wisemon gratefully. "Thank you," he said. "Whatever it was you did, thank you."

"Again you're welcome, but… you didn't understand what I said?" Wisemon asked, tutting. "Troglodytes."

* * *

Beelzemon swept through the trees after the fleeing Orcs, the enraged Elves pressing them back, back and further back through the ever-thinning Golden Wood. He moved in behind them, watching carefully as they drew closer and closer to the edge of the wood, eyes narrowing as he watched the Orcs scampering on ahead, but not doing anything to assist this time. As a warrior himself, he was wary that the Orcs had not yet thrown everything they had at them.

And it turned out that he was right.

They reached the edge of the woods and the Orcs fled on out across the open space. But as the Elves drew to a halt at the edge of the woodland and began to sheathe their swords in readiness for a victory cheer, Beelzemon saw from his vantage point in the air that a line of Orc archers were standing amongst the running crowd, pulling back their bowstrings and aiming high to arc their arrows down on the line of Elves.

"Take cover!" Beelzemon roared as the Orcs let fly, and not a moment too soon. The Elves heeded his warning almost instantly, instincts calling them to do so at the mere words, but Beelzemon swept Berenjena around and added in a bellow of **"DEATH THE CANNON!"**

He let fly with a colossal blast of green from the tip of Berenjena, sweeping it across the line of orcs as he had when he had only been using the chaingun. Most of the flying arrows were consumed in the energy blast, which crashed into the ground and the Orc ranks in a _massive_ strip, obliterating all the line of Orc archers where they stood and taking out a huge number of the other Orcs in the process in a single huge explosion that sent chunks of the ground flying all over the place.

If the attack had not been called off before that, it had now. The Orcs wanted nothing to do with this strange being that could cause such wide devastation to their number in a single go. The Elves, meanwhile, looked up at Beelzemon with a new sense of awe and respect in their eyes. He might have saved a few of their lives with that quick action, not to mention he had not destroyed any of their trees with his powerful weapon and the few arrows he had not been able to destroy had thudded against wood instead of Elf bodies.

Beelzemon lowered his weapon, watching as the remaining Orcs fell over each other as they ran for the hills.

"Well," he said, lowering himself down to the ground. "Hopefully they might think twice before they attempt to return to this place."

* * *

It took a couple of hours but eventually the two Digimon made it back to Caras Galadhon. They had been helping out where they could, for there had been wounded Elves to see to and many dead to respectfully carry away so they could receive a proper farewell at a later stage, and Wisemon had been helping to analyse the trees that had been burnt, determining that three of them were still alive, but in very bad shape. But the Elves magic, they assured him, would bring them back to health in time.

When they did return to the Elf city it was to some tumultuous applause. Evidently word had been sent ahead of their exploits in the battling and firefighting and many of the Elves had turned out in force to thank them. Beelzemon spotted the little Elf girl, Sindria, bouncing up and down and pointed at him, so he waved to her and she cheerily waved back.

Galadriel and Celeborn were there waiting for them, both of them smiling as they saw the two Digimon approach. They both nodded their heads in greeting and the two Digimon bowed their own in signs of respect. The crowd of Elves stopped their clapping for a few moments, waiting for someone to start speaking.

That person turned out to be Haldir, who said, "They may look like Demons, but based on what I saw, if they are Demons then they are definitely Demons of Good."

There was more applause from the other Elves at this statement, but it died down again quickly, as Celeborn voiced his thoughts.

"I extend the gratitude of my people to the both of you, Beelzemon… Wisemon… Were it not for your actions then many other Elves could have died out there today, and a lot more of our beloved forest could have been destroyed. You shall forever be remembered in Elvish song for your deeds this day."

"Indeed," Galadriel nodded, a bright and radiant smile on her face. "It is clear to all of us now that Eru Ilúvatar chose well in selecting our new allies in the fight against Sauron. You have proven yourselves to be not only capable, but just and true and, to coin a word that I have gleaned from your own universe… awesome."

Beelzemon grinned. "Think nothing of it, my lord and lady. We do not turn our backs on those in need, no matter how well protected they may already be."

"To do so would disgrace us and everything we stand for," Wisemon agreed.

"That is so," Galadriel nodded. "Which is why I am going to tell you something that may at first seem like spurn, but is in fact nothing of the kind – you must leave Lothlórien."

Beelzemon and Wisemon both blinked, and there was some muttering from the nearby Elves, that clearly indicated they were bemused too. But Galadriel went on to explain, "We are well protected here. Now that we know that Sauron's hand has extended this far, we shall fortify our outer forest against any future invasions, and Caras Galadhon itself is always protected even from those. However, there are many other regions of Middle Earth that are also under attack besides us. Your skills and your refusal to turn your backs on others will be much more greatly put to use elsewhere in Middle Earth than here. And you Beelzemon," she nodded to the Digimon in question. "You know that you have a particular role to play out there, and that role will not take place here."

Beelzemon frowned. "If you are sure that you are well protected here…"

"We are," Celeborn nodded. "The forces of Sauron cannot reach us here. No matter how hard they try. Only Sauron himself could touch us, and right now he is incapable of doing so. And if all goes well, he will forever remain that way."

"Then if you think we can be of greater help elsewhere, we can indeed leave," Beelzemon nodded. "But where do we go? Wisemon and I know nothing of this world."

"I have further consulted the Mirror," Galadriel smiled. "And I believe I know where you will find the one who needs your guidance. Rest now, after the battle, but if you are willing then later today, you can set out. The sparrowhawk," she gestured to the same bird that had led them to the battle before which was perched on a branch nearby. "Will show you the way. Follow her, and you will find your path."

Beelzemon nodded, his gaze hardening. He got the feeling that Galadriel had said all she was going to say on the subject of who it was that needed his guidance. But if it was true that he would have to head away from Shoutmon and his beloved Mervamon for the benefit of all, then he would seize his role with… well… he only had one hand, but he would do everything in his power to see it through.

* * *

Geehee. A fair amount of action and contemplation in this one then. It was fun to write and I hope that you enjoyed it too, and props to anyone who knows which person Beelzemon is meant to be guiding. It is meant to be pretty obvious if you put your mind to it, but still… Hehehe. Beelzemon's story is only just beginning, and I think we established in this chapter that orcs do not stand a CHANCE against him. No, there will be other things in line than those, which will present our Demon Digimon with a much harder time.

Sayonara.

* * *

Next time…

Up north, the Elven Warrior Glorfindel returns from a scouting expedition into Eriador, only to find that the problems may have been a little closer to home then they previously thought, in the form of an army of goblins marching on the Elven Haven of Imladris. It would seem that Lothlórien is not the only Elven settlement to come under attack.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 28 : Raid on Rivendell**


	28. Raid on Rivendell

Hullo there everybody, and I am back with another update once again. This is one of the few chapters of this story that does not involve any of the Digimon, at least not directly, but regardless I hope that you still enjoy it – I've endeavoured to make it as entertaining as I can and I can only hope that I pulled it off. Hehehe. Read on an enjoy more exploits for the Elven Race.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 28:- Raid on Rivendell**

* * *

Sparrows twittered and zipped through the trees, peeping to one another continuously as they went about their daily lives as they always did, hustling and bustling and adhering to their ranks within the group in their search for food. One of the little birds fluttered down to land on an outstretched finger, cocking its little head to chirp at the face of the finger's owner, the long and ethereally handsome face of an Elf.

And Elf with long golden hair that flowed backwards and practically shone even in the light of the day – the kind of hair that even few Elves besides the Lady Galadriel herself could boast about, not that either of them ever actually did boast about it. And underneath his fair face, he was fully kitted out in such a manner that you would instantly be able to tell that this Elf was a fully-fledged warrior.

A long white cloak flowed outwards from his shoulders, practically billowing out behind him even though there was next to no wind in the area, while his body was covered in light-weight but incredibly strong silver armour, plates of metal layered over one another in intricately designed and beautiful patterns, making the armour a work of art itself. The breastplate was decorated in swirling lines and designs like leaves and waves and each of the shoulder guards had a thin but broad spike-like projection that curved outwards to a fine point. Purely for decoration though, using them as weapons would be implausible, even for an Elf.

What was his weapon though was a long curved sword that hung at his waist like a giant scimitar, except it was more slender and more defined than a scimitar. It was a blade that had seen battle many a time, and had been wielded in those battles with considerable skill.

This Elf was named Glorfindel, which meant "golden-haired" in their tongue. An appropriate name for him to be sure, and it always had been.

Glorfindel was considered by many to be one of the most powerful Elves still alive within Middle Earth. Of course he could not be compared to the likes of Galadriel and her incredible powers of magic, but he was an exceptionally skilled warrior in his own way, able to hold his own with ease against even the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of Sauron, a feat that few were capable of doing. He was a legend amongst his people, a wonderful Elf Lord. He could even be considered a prince.

But Glorfindel did not care much for titles and did not seek wealth and fortitude because of his power. He was, despite being a Lord, not particularly a ruler of anywhere. He lived in the Elven city of Imladris, also known as Rivendell in the Common Tongue, and served under Lord Elrond Half-elven as his most powerful warrior and his right hand Elf. It was a position that he valued and held in pride and honour, and he had committed himself to doing all in his power to serve the Elves of the valley and of the West.

Despite being such an experienced warrior, Glorfindel was also gentle, as were all Elves. He smiled at the sparrow that had come to rest upon his finger and gently blew on it, allowing it to take off and continue on its way with its feathered kin. Glorfindel turned around to look over at the other Elves behind him. There almost seemed to be a radiant, ethereal glow coming off him as he moved, though it was difficult to see where such a glow was originating from.

Right now, Glorfindel was the leader of an Elvish scouting party that had been out scouring the lands around them for any sign of Enemy movements. The group consisted of about twenty Elves, all with long flowing hair; blond, brown or deep black, with the occasional silver-haired Elf amongst their number. They had been all over Rhudaur in their search for enemy activity, scouring for any sign of fell creatures coming down from the north, as they had in times gone by.

Glorfindel still remembered quite clearly the time when the Witch-King had taken up residence in the realm of Angmar, north of their current position. He had been personally involved in the attack on the Witch-King's fortress and had locked blades with said Nazgûl himself to drive him from his home and finally break his reign. With the increasing threat of Sauron, Elrond knew that it was likely to be only a matter of time before the dark forces stirred up once more and when they did, things would likely get very dangerous very fast.

They had found nothing out of the ordinary. Yet Glorfindel had, while he was out on the mission, sensed something unusual. A sudden change in the world, one that he could not explain. In actuality, it was the same change that Galadriel, Elrond and other beings of high power had felt – the arrival of many new creatures into their universe. But currently, Glorfindel had no inkling as to what it could have possibly been, and meant to take it up with Elrond as soon as he returned to Rivendell.

Which was something that he and his company were currently in the process of doing.

"Come now, Elves," Glorfindel nodded his head eastwards in the direction that they were taking. "We have not much further to go. Tonight, we shall all sleep in beds once more."

"And what a pleasant sensation that will be," another Elf with dark hair chuckled.

"You're growing soft, Limnir," Glorfindel grinned at him. "Getting too used to the life of luxury, are you? Elvenkind should be just as happy sleeping out in the wild and under the stars as on their feather pillows."

"Oh, I have been quite content," the Elf laughed with a smile. "But you cannot deny that the chance to settle down at a table and dine with fine wine and good food once more. And ah, the music. The music is one thing that I often miss most out on these scouting patrols. Fine Elven musicians strumming their harps and blowing softly into their flutes. It is a real shame that we do not have such opportunities for things out in the wild."

Glorfindel grinned. "There is that. I too miss the music. Perhaps we should leave the life out in the bushes for the Rangers after all." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, what am I saying, I would miss the sensation of being surrounded by trees as much as I miss the music if I were to try something like that."

The Elves all laughed amongst themselves, stepping so lightly over the ground it was almost as though they were not stepping at all. Everywhere they trod they did so lighter than feathers. Twigs did not break under their feet. It was like each of them was a silent ghost slipping over the countryside and barely disturbing it around them. They were practically stealthier than any Man could hope to be and they weren't even trying.

"Sounds like you're in a bit of a dilemma, Glorfindel," another one of them said.

"No matter," Glorfindel replied. "Above all else, Rivendell is our home, and that is where we shall soon be once again."

A muttering of agreement came with it as they pressed on. Glorfindel turned his mind back to the search that they had just been on. He had heard from Elrond himself that most of the Elves that still remained within Middle Earth were sending out similar scouting patrols around their borders – the Elves, of Mirkwood and Lothlórien in particular keeping a close eye out for enemy activity. None of the Elves were willing to leave things to chance. They had memories as long as their lives, and all those who still remained from the First and Second Ages knew well the ravages that war could bring upon their lands.

* * *

Glorfindel himself had been around during the rise and fall of Sauron in his first attempt to take over the lands of the Free Peoples. He vividly recalled every brutal battle that he had even been in and the slaughter of many hundreds of Elven kind, when they had not been prepared for the assaults that Sauron led upon them. No Elf wanted a repeat of that, and so Lord Elrond and King Thranduil and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had all be making preparations for incoming battle for some time now. None of them wanted to be struck without warning again.

Glorfindel sighed to himself as he continued walking. Sometimes even he doubted the point in all of this. The time of the Elves was already over, regardless of the outcome of the War of the Ring. Though the Elves gained great power, many of them were growing weary of the increasingly mortal world around them. Over the last few thousand years, numbers of Men had been growing and growing with increasing speed and spreading across all the lands, so much so that many Elves sometimes referred to them as 'two-legged bunnies.'

The new rise of Sauron had been the final straw for many Elves, and many from all the realms of Middle Earth, including Rivendell, had all started on a mass pilgrimage to the West, towards the port city of the Grey Havens, on the other side of the Shire.

They were leaving Middle Earth forever, travelling across the sea to the Undying Lands, also known as Valinor. It was the place where the Valar and most of the Maiar that resided within the world lived. In ages past, the Elves had once resided there but had been tricked into crossing to Middle Earth by the evil Valar and the first Dark Lord Melkor, afterwards known as Morgoth. The Valar had not permitted them to return to Valinor for many years afterwards, but recently had taken pity on the Elves, seeing how their world was in decline and the Men were taking.

Many of the Elves were taking the chance and returning to Valinor now, escaping the wrath of Sauron and leaving Middle Earth to the Men. Many people said the time of the Elves was over and the Dominion of Men was nigh.

To Glorfindel, this was a sad time. He had lived long in the valleys and fields of Middle Earth, and had come to love the land for what it was – his home. Yet, it now seemed inevitable, no matter what happened in the upcoming war, that the Elves would fade from Middle Earth and eventually disappear altogether. And quite frankly he was upset by this.

He had come to know many Men over the course of his life, good people in most cases. He knew that their continued colonisation of the world was not a deliberate attempt to take over. It was just happening. And it seemed the Elves would have to come to accept that and leave the world to the mortals.

But that did not mean he had to like it. He remembered times in the past where Elves and Men had walked side by side through these lands. But it was no longer the case now. The divide between them was too great. Men withered and died. Elves lived on. The progression of time was vastly different to both races. And it seemed to the Elves, their time had come. He just wished the outcome could be different.

* * *

As these thoughts stirred within Glorfindel's mind, his eyes – keen as those of any other Elf – spotted something ahead – movement in the trees. He froze, raising a hand to halt the Elvish progression behind him. Glorfindel frowned, staring ahead intently. They were on the edges of the valley of Imladris, at the end of which stood the settlement of Rivendell itself, so close to home once again.

And yet, up ahead, he could see more movement. And lots of it. There were shapes scampering across the ground between the trees in hurried motions that almost made it seem like they were scuttling. And they were drawing closer.

Glorfindel quickly lashed out with his hand, forming swift signals to the other Elves as he stepped backwards and stepped behind the trunk of a tree, partially screening him from view of anything up ahead, while the other Elves followed his example, ducking out of sight and peering ahead.

"Stay quiet," he hissed to the other Elves as he peered ahead and focused his practically laser-like eyes on the moving shapes ahead. As they became clearer and easier to see, Glorfindel's eyes widened in alarm. There were creatures - many of over them – squat two-legged creatures with permanently bent legs that seemed to hop along in a strange rocking jumping motion rather than simple walking. Glorfindel could see their bodies covered in ragged remnants of armour, and each of them had some kind of viciously spiked sword or other type of weapon clutched in their hands. Some had crudely made bows that looked like they were half rotted or in some cases even made of bone, which was _not_ a good material when it came to bow-crafting.

Some of them had helmets that obscured their faces, but others were unmasked, and Glorfindel could see quite clearly the long, pointed ears, the wide and round yellow eyes, the fanged mouth, the filthy, gnarled skin that covered the disfigured looking faces. They could only be one thing.

"Goblins," Glorfindel hissed to himself, stirring up muttering from the other Elves around them. "It cannot be. They've never been so close to Rivendell."

This was true. Rivendell had been founded in the Second Age when Sauron had been ravaging the land for the first time and the lands around it had been attacked during that time, as well as during the rise of the Witch-King, the city itself had never been attacked. It had been besieged, and the battles taken outside by legions of orcs and evil men, but the valley itself had remained mostly untouched throughout its entire history.

And now there were swarms of goblins moving down into the valley towards the Elven haven. From what Glorfindel could see they were coming from the southeast, from the direction of the Misty Mountains. This was hardly surprising, as the Misty Mountains had long been a refuge for the goblin hordes that dwelt within them, but not this far north. Not for some time now. And even when it had, the goblins had never dared come out and attack Rivendell before.

Goblins were naturally terrified of daylight, and while admittedly it was a cloudy day, there was still plenty of that. For them to come willingly out of their tunnels in the day… something must have been motivating them quite strongly.

Glorfindel gritted his teeth. It looked like the goblins were attempting to be sneaky, sticking close to the ground even though that was about the only pose they could really do because of their legs, and but also moving slower than they were capable of doing and dodging through the trees, trying to sneak up towards the great fortress. This was a wise decision on their part, for the valley of Rivendell was set up to be as defensible as possible. It was surrounded by extremely high cliffs on three sides and though the goblins would be capable of climbing down those cliffs fairly easily while other species couldn't, they would be easily seen and the Elves could shoot them down before they got anywhere near a height they could safely jump.

As to the other side of Rivendell, it was separated from the rest of the land by a large chasm, essentially making the city settled on its own little pocket of land surrounded by cliffs rising above it or falling beneath it. The goblins were trying to sneak up the valley that led towards it to assault the city from the chasm, which could only be crossed by a couple of defensible bridges that the Elves had built across it.

Still, none of the Elves were expecting an attack as such close quarters so early. If the goblins could be stealthy enough, they could potentially cross those bridges unseen, scuttling underneath them if necessary, and scale the walls to get inside and start attacking before the Elves knew what was happening. Lord Elrond had many defences around the borders of his land, but he did not have the power that Galadriel held and these goblins had already gotten well within those borders.

"Lord Glorfindel, what do we do?" questioned one of the Elves behind him.

"We must act quickly," Glorfindel hissed without hesitation. "We must get ahead of them and warn Lord Elrond of their approach. That look like an advanced scouting party rather than the whole army, but who knows how many goblins there are not far away. We have a chance to rally the defences and we must take it. Move, quickly! We'll attempt to get ahead of them and then run for Rivendell before they can get there."

The Elves nodded and they swiftly ran forwards, running from tree to tree as quietly as they had while they were walking, keeping the advancing goblins up ahead within sight as they headed down into the valley. Glorfindel counted themselves fortunate that they had arrived back when they did. They had thought an attack would come from the north first but the scouting party had found nothing there. Instead, the attack was coming from the other direction, and if they had been so much as half an hour earlier or later, it could have been too late to take action.

"Stay light-footed," he cautioned them as they drew closer to the goblins, running diagonally towards in an attempt to get ahead of them. Goblins had sharp hearing – not as sharp as an Elf's, but still very sharp, but Glorfindel was glad that their eyes were definitely not as sharp – more used to darker places than being out here in the day as they were, or they could have been spotted by now. They were a far cry from the Elves they had once been in that regard, for Goblins and Orcs, were technically the same race, but the goblins of the Misty Mountains could be called a different subspecies to the Orcs of the North or Mordor.

Just as they were drawing level with the front ranks of the encroaching goblins, Glorfindel heard a yell cut through the air nearby, causing him to whip around. He cursed when he saw an Elf maiden and her young child right in the path of the goblins. Evidently they had been out playing in the valley for the child's amusement, and had been too pre-occupied with the game to notice the goblins until they were almost upon them.

The Goblins let loose chittering noises and immediately gave chase as the Elf maiden seized her child and ran, the Goblins hard on her heels. Many Elf women were just as capable at fighting as any Elf man, but this one clearly was not one of those women.

Glorfindel did the only thing that he could do in a situation like this. He broke cover and dashed forwards with long bounds, his curved blade flashing into his hand so fast it was like it jumped out of is scabbard by itself. As a Goblin paused to draw its bow back and aim it at the woman, Glorfindel took its head off with a clean swipe from the side, slicing through Goblin, bow and arrow in on go.

"Run!" Glorfindel yelled needlessly to the Elf woman as the Goblins screeched. "Get back to Imladris! Over here, Elves! Swiftly!" And he immediately set into the front-running Goblins with a will, he sword slicing deftly through the armour of the first one and swinging up to disarm another with a flick that was almost casual, twirling his sword down to strike down on the Goblin's shoulder and slice off his arm in one go. Two more swung at him wildly, but Glorfindel flipped his sword to a horizontal level and caught both blades on his own, kicking one Goblin in the gut to send it rolling backwards and then sweeping around to cleave into the ribs of the second.

The Elf maiden and her child ran, with Glorfindel stepping backwards behind her facing down the Goblins as they hesitated for a moment. It was at that moment that the other Elves of his patrol ran in with him and made a colossal impact on the Goblins on the flank, blades flashing and glinting through the air as they sliced through armour and skin alike. Goblins fell with wailing shrieks as the Elves fell on them with cold and clean efficiency.

Glorfindel was in the thick of things, but he was stepping backwards towards the end of the valley, using his own body to shield the two innocent Elves behind him from any potential arrows. In fact, one came streaking towards him even as he stabbed his blade through another swordsman and tore it out, but the Elf warrior merely swung out with an armoured fist and batted the arrow aside with it as if it was no more than a fly, and twisted around to behead two more Goblins in the same wide sweep of his sword.

The Goblins quailed before him, as the light that seemed to come from around Glorfindel grew in intensity, as if it was shining from every part of him, including the sword that he heaved above his head to slam down so hard that he actually cut through the sword of the Goblin that leapt at him savagely next. Admittedly it was a rather rusty blade, but Glorfindel's remained unblemished as he sliced into the Goblin and flung it to the side, his fist hammering out to strike another in the face so hard he sent it crashing into another pair like a cannonball, then twisted around to stab his sword under his own arm and behind him, impaling another in the chest.

The Goblins knew that they alone were no match for this particular Elf, and that was not even counting the other Elves that were piling in around them and arcing their blades into their ranks. So they tried to take him on en masse instead. Several arrows lanced out from the crowd and whistled towards the Elf Lord, one of them hitting another Elf in the shoulder instead but most of them narrowing in towards their target.

But Glorfindel sprang to the side with a speed and dexterity that no human could hope to match, the arrows thudding into the ground in the place where he'd been as he rolled back onto his feet. The Goblins swordsmen, thinking that they had a chance while he was in mid-roll, charged towards him, but Glorfindel sprang towards them with a single, mighty blow, his sword carving through three Goblins and his arms bowling another two over in one go.

The intensity of his light seemed to burn at the eyes and skin of the Goblins as even if they were a fair distance away from him, but they carried on regardless, determined to try and bring him down. One of them flung a sword at him, but he caught it in an armoured hand and snapped the blade easily, hurling the tip back and embedding it in the Goblin that owned it, his long golden hair streaming out behind him as he spun around to sweep-kick another Goblin in the side of the head and another in the back of the knee a moment later, stabbing down into it as it fell to the ground and even as he seized another by the wrist as it tried to slash him and swung it across himself to batter down another three.

"Lord Glorfindel!" one of the other Elves cried suddenly. They were powerful warriors in their own right, but none had the strength, skill and power that Glorfindel himself possessed. Despite this they were putting up a good fight, though one or two of them were injured now. The Elf that had yelled was pointing further down the valley, as he yelled, "They are coming from over there too. They formed two parties."

Glorfindel sprang backwards and turned to look grimacing as he saw that the Elf was right. There was another battalion of Goblins making its way down the other edge of the valley and heading towards Rivendell. He could see that they would quickly run into the Elf Maiden and her child that had gotten some distance ahead by now. And despite the conflict, Rivendell itself was largely unfortified at the moment. The Goblins would swarm their way in if necessary.

"Elves, fall back!" Glorfindel cried, swinging out a fist like a mace over his shoulder to bat another Goblin in the nose and floor it. "We must gather at the city and warn them of the encroachers. We cannot allow them to gain entry."

The Elves nodded and quickly followed his instructions, the healthier ones helping their wounded comrades as they hurried away. On foot, they were fleeter than the Goblins and quickly outpaced them, for the Goblins saw their retreat as a victory and jeered before setting off in pursuit. A few more arrows flew, but Glorfindel intercepted one with the flat of his sword and sent it flying away and seized another right out the air, snapping it easily as he fell back at the rear of his forces, covering their retreat as best he could and his light deterring the Goblins further.

Still, he couldn't be everywhere at once and another Elf cried out as an arrow hit him in the back of the leg and he went down. Glorfindel immediately ran to him and hauled him up, dashing along on their way back towards the main gates of Rivendell, across the elegant stone bridge out front.

The Elf Maiden and her child cried out as the Goblins bore down towards them and tried to increase their speed to get away from them. Glorfindel growled as he saw them get closer in towards the side and without hesitation he hurled his sword out, hard. The curved blade went scything through the air and ran through the Goblin at the front of the pack, the point of the sword embedding in the ground and propping the body up slightly.

The Goblins hesitated a little, giving the Elf Maiden chance to increase her speed and some of the front-running Elven warriors to catch up and get in front of the Goblins, falling on them with sword and the occasional shield in evidence. Glorfindel quickly passed off his wounded comrade to another Elf, instructing him to get him inside, before he seized the hilt of his sword and pulled it from the ground _and_ the Goblin before he turned around to bull his way through two more Goblins and cut down a third.

"Elves, to the fortress!" he cried, as he saw the original pack of Goblins drawing towards the bridge. "Arm yourselves with bows and give them a taste of Elvish silverthorn."

The Elves around him followed his instructions, dashing out across the bridge and shepherding the Elf Maiden and her child through the already open gates. The sound of conflict was now reaching into the city and several Elves inside were rushing out and looking towards the battle, watching as Glorfindel stood alone at the front of the bridge and sliced, hacked, jumped and kicked at the Goblin forces, holding them back as they tried to cross bridge around him, only to be repelled by his attacks.

Such was the power of one of the great Elf Lords. A lesser Elf would have fallen by now, but Glorfindel was far from an ordinary Elf. His cloak and hair billowing around him, his face set in a battle grimace, he was truly a force to be reckoned with. No single Goblin was capable of standing before him in a one-on-one fight and even as they came in force he beat them down. It seemed as though he had become temporarily invulnerable, his sword gleaming despite the blood that it was collecting.

The Elves within the fortress, as well as those that were running inside from Glorfindel's force, acted immediately, quickly hurrying to grab their bows as quickly as they could, many of them still clad in their casual robes. As Glorfindel slashed and hacked and punched from the bridge, falling slowly backwards step by step as the Goblins continued to crowd in, the Elves behind him quickly lined the walls, pulling back the strings with arrows notched to them and taking careful aim, extra forces being added to their ranks every second.

Seemingly without signal, the entire group suddenly let fly with their arrows, like a cloud of angry hornets they buzzed through the air and landed with dozens of small thuds into the Goblins on either side of Glorfindel, some of them whizzing within inches of his armour and yet not making him flinch. Instead he merely cut another Goblin in front of him across the front and then took his chance, turning and rushing back towards the gates.

"Shut the doors!" he roared to the Elves that had stationed themselves at the winch. "Fortify the defences. Prepare for battle!"

Another volley of arrows whooshed over his head to pummel into the Goblin ranks once again, as the gate began to close even as he ran towards them. The Goblins fell back, hitting and spitting furiously, their element of surprise that they had been going for now lost. Glorfindel slipped between the closing doors with a slight whirl, his cloak snapping through the gap shortly before the gate thudded shut behind him, barring the Goblin's easiest way in.

Glorfindel spotted the Elf Maiden holding her small child close and hurried over to her, placing an armoured hand on her shoulder. "Are you injured?" he asked.

"No, but thank you," she said with a smiling reply. "You timing is unmatched, Lord Glorfindel. I fear, to my shame, that we would be dead now were it not for you."

"You are welcome," Glorfindel nodded to her. "But perhaps from now on it might be best to stay inside the haven without very good reason. We could not have anticipated that the Goblins would come so close to us but now that we know they can then we must take all precautions in future."

The Elf woman nodded. Another Elven warrior came running up to him and quickly asked, "Your orders, sir? The Goblin scout party is being repelled but we don't know if this is all of their current force."

Glorfindel looked up and saw the Elves continuing to fire their arrows, taking more careful aim now, which indicated there were much less potential opponents to hit. He nodded and said, "All those ready and willing man the walls for now and watch for the enemy. I must go and speak with Lord Elrond about this immediately."

The Elves nearby hurried to do his bidding and relay the instructions, as Glorfindel quickly hurried off amongst the myriad of passages and tall, archaic and intricately designed and shaped structures. Rivendell was truly a work of art and it seemed as though every part of it had been carefully sculpted with the finest of tools. It might be easier for someone who did not know their way around to get lost in the layers of passages built up over one another, yet the buildings almost seemed to blend in with the natural surroundings, as if they had always been that way, great trees and countless flowers decorating every courtyard and open space available to them.

And yet the Goblins wanted to come in here and burn all of this wonder and all of this beauty to the ground. The splendour of the place was nothing to them. Glorfindel knew that. He had been fighting their kind for far too long, but that was something that everyone who fought a Goblin learned from day one.

* * *

As he hurried along, a gruff voice suddenly hailed him. "Hoi, Elf-Prince! You're back I see. What's going on out there? I thought I could hear yelling and screaming."

Glorfindel paused only to give the new figure a nod as he hurried out of a corridor nearby. It was not a common occurrence for a Dwarf to be seen in Rivendell – the enmity that long been held between their races ensured that they usually kept away from each other. But this Dwarf, with a huge reddish-brown beard and hair, and holding a large weapon that looked like giant hammer, with one end sharp and narrow before being extended out into a thickset other side, was no stranger. He had been to Rivendell a couple of times now in his time and as usual Elrond extended a welcoming hand where other Elves would have spurned him.

This Dwarf was Glóin, father of Gimli – the Dwarf who had travelled South many suns ago with the rest of the Fellowship, and also one of the Dwarves that had been a part of the company of thirteen that had travelled to Erebor with Thorin and Bilbo Baggins to try and oust the dragon, Smaug. He had recently travelled with his son back to Rivendell as Elrond's summoning as a representative of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and had been present at the Council of Elrond that had decided the fate of the Ring.

After his long journey, Glóin had been reluctant to make his move back home. It was a long journey and he, like all Dwarves, liked regular meals, which he could get here in Rivendell, even though the food they had here was… not exactly to his taste. He would have preferred more meat, for one thing. But food was food and there was sure enough more of it here than there would be travelling all the way back to the Mountain.

Still, he had been making plans to begin the journey back recently but had yet to act upon them.

"Master Dwarf," Glorfindel nodded curtly, not on particularly friendly terms with him, but not on unfriendly ones either. "Follow me. I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"Here, what's going on?" Glóin cried, annoyed that Glorfindel hadn't given him a straight answer as he hurried after the Elf. "What's happening? Did you find something on your scouting patrol?"

"Something like that," Glorfindel murmured, and fell silent as he hurried on, Glóin moving in his wake.

Glorfindel finally came across Elrond, in his personal chambers, to find that the Master of Rivendell had already shed his usual casual robes and had already donned his battle gear. Glorfindel had not seen him wear that for over one-thousand years now, but it was the same armour that he had worn in the Battle of the Last Alliance, fighting alongside Isildur at the first defeat of Sauron – layered blue and green, and with his long, slender curved sword laying on the bed behind him.

Elrond himself was a regal looking Elf indeed, looking neither old nor young and with long dark hair that fell down his back and over either shoulder. Most people referred to him as an Elf, but in fact he was, as his name suggested, a Half-Elf, for his grandfather had been a mortal Man, while his grandmother and Elf. However, Half-Elves had the ability to choose which of the two races they embodied they would take the traits of, and Elrond had chosen that of the Elf a long time ago, so he looked no different to any of the other Elves of Rivendell in that regard.

He was in the process of buckling on a wrist-guard when Glorfindel entered the room. "I see you already know, sire," he bowed to his Lord.

"I heard the sounds from my balcony," Elrond nodded towards it – his balcony overlooked most of Rivendell and the valley itself so that he could keep an eye on things if necessary. "And I saw what was going on."

"Well I didn't," huffed Glóin as he came up and glared around him at them. "Can somebody tell me what is going on here?"

"The Goblins have come down from the Mountains," Glorfindel turned to face him. "They're approaching from the South."

"Goblins?" Glóin blinked, hefting his hammer. "There's an attack?"

"Indeed," Glorfindel nodded. "It seems we have dealt with the advance scouting party that was trying to sneak up on us, but I believe it is safe to assume that they are not acting alone. There may be a full army not far behind."

"I sensed this day was coming," Elrond grunted as he took his sword and immediately strode out of the door, Glorfindel and Glóin close behind him. "Though it has arrived sooner than I anticipated. Long has Rivendell been safe from that servants of darkness. That sanctity _must_ not be lost."

"Well, then," Glóin growled. "Lead me to the action. I'll take care of the filthy wretches, you mark my words?"

"You will help us, Master Dwarf?" Glorfindel asked.

"Goblins and I do not get along," Glóin growled. "It was those wretched creatures that swarmed our mountain sixty years ago, if you remember? And it was because of them that Thorin…" he trailed off and clutched his hammer all the tighter. "I ain't going to stand back and do nothing while they try and walk all over this place… nor any other place either!"

Glorfindel allowed himself to chuckle as the three of them moved out. "That is a sentiment that we share."

"Good to know," Glóin grunted. "Now let's get out there. My hammer is growing restless."

"Indeed," Glorfindel nodded. "But my Lord Elrond, where are your children? Where is the Lady Arwen, and the Lords Elladan and Elrohir? Should they not be there helping with the defences?"

"They, like you were, are out on scouting patrols," Elrond replied. "I sent my sons out to the West to speak with the Rangers, to see if they knew of anything that we have missed or not had any information on. And Arwen is currently out with a patrol of cavalry lancers that are doing a clean sweep of the area."

"Ah. And let me guess, the Lady Arwen took my horse again," Glorfindel couldn't stop himself from chuckling. The white horse, Asfaloth, that the Lady Arwen had taken to go in search of Aragorn and Frodo when they had been pursued by the Ringwraiths at the start of the Ring's journey, was in fact his steed, which she had taken because of her haste to find her beloved one…

"Well she cannot be blamed for the fact that Asfaloth is the fastest horse of the northern regions," Elrond replied in kind. "You have only yourself to blame for that."

Joking aside, they fell silent as they made their way out into the courtyards by the gates. Many of the Elves had already managed to slip away and change into a more appropriate battle gear, some of the helping to patch up the wounded from Glorfindel's patrol. Elven males and females alike stood atop the walls with bows at the ready, staring out across the land before them in search of the main force of goblins that they believed to be out there.

"Muster together," Elrond called out, his voice ringing out across the valley as clear as a bell. "I want all sentry towers filled and archers standing on the balconies above to rain arrows down upon the lands from above. Cover every inch across the canyon in you can! Goblins are good climbers and its possible that they may try and scale the walls of the gorge."

"We do not have as much strength here as we had in times gone by," Glorfindel observed with pursed lips. "Many of our kin have already gone east. The number of our warriors here has declined."

"Rivendell is defensible," Elrond replied as they made their way through the Elven ranks. "For now we must focus on ensuring that the Goblins do not get in. We must cover all exits. Have the bridge to the west secured as well with further archers."

Glorfindel nodded with a deep bow and turned to carry out Elrond's bidding. Glóin patted his hammer against one hand and murmured, "Sounds to me as if it will be unlikely that I will even be needed in this skirmish," he said. "I'm not that much of an archer."

"Avoiding battle is something to be hoped for, Master Dwarf, not irritated by," Elrond replied, looking around as he surveyed the Elves heading out to take up their defensive position, stocking up with their finest longbows and their arrows, made from a special material called Silverthorn that greatly increased the strength of the arrow when cast from the bow – sometimes it could even make them like miniature spears being hurled down from above. "And that is what I hope for myself. There are many innocent Elves that are not trained for warfare. I would rather the fighting did not get so close as to threaten them."

Glóin grunted again. "Well… I suppose I'm a little restive. With my young son, Gimli, still wet behind the ears as he is, swanning off down to Mordor on his great quest I feel like I should be doing something myself. I can hardly let my own son outperform me before I grow old by Dwarvish standards now can I?"

"I know what you mean," Elrond chuckled. "My own sons are constantly trying to…"

"MY LORD!" Glorfindel cried as he ran towards them. "Incoming enemy forces! They've slipped past the west entrance and have gotten over the canyon!"

Elrond's eyes widened – that meant that, for the first time in recorded history, there were enemies now within the walls of Rivendell itself. He let loose an Elvish word that he would _never_ normally say no matter what company he was in, and drew his sword, running forwards towards Glorfindel and roaring order in Elvish, summoning the Elves from the perches they were running to left and right, while forcing others to stay and keep watch. Many of the Elves drew their swords as they ran, and Glóin, hurrying along behind them, was lost in the crowd.

It had been some time since Elrond had lost gone into battle against a force of Goblins, but while he was accustomed to a life of lordship and luxury here in Rivendell, no Elf warrior should ever be underestimated. Especially one such as Elrond.

A loud horn rang out from near to the dale as they approached the western entrance. The only way of getting through to this entrance was through narrow, hidden passages or valleys that led down a narrow pathways from on high – it was the same route the Dwarves had taken to enter Rivendell in Thorin's company many years before, and for that reason walls or gates had never been built at that side of the canyon – it had been designed so only the most trusted friends of Rivendell would even know of its existence.

And yet apparently the goblins had found it. And both Elrond and Glorfindel could see now that the scouting party on the front gates before had been not only a first attempt, but a diversion just in case it had not worked to draw the Elves away from where the next force of Goblins was really coming from.

As the Elves rounded the corners they beheld the squat Goblins bouncing up towards them – over one-hundred of them at least, possibly more. Elvish civilians were fleeing for their lives, dashing with all speed to the safety of their kin and the Elvish ranks parted to let them through before making the final stretch. And the Goblins rushed into meet them, the two forces falling upon each other like colliding rockslides.

"Show them their graves!" Glorfindel roared as he and Elrond cut their way into the battle, fighting side by side for the first time in a _long_ time.

* * *

High in sky, soaring pleasantly on the thermals that pulsed beneath his wings, one of the Great Eagles of the North was cruising over the peaks of the northernmost stretches of the Misty Mountains, enjoying the feeling of the warm air rising underneath him. This Eagle went by the name of Baranthor, and he was just as much a loyal servant of Gwaihir as any other Giant Eagle.

He had spent much of the majority of the day scouring the land below for any sign of strange creatures, apparently known as Digimon, his fierce, golden eyes practically penetrating the shadows of the darkest places amongst the mountains. He had set out at first light, as per the instructions of the Windlord, and he and the other Eagles had split out across the northern lands to begin their search.

He had to admit though that it probably would be a lot easier if he knew what he was looking for. Those strange Digimon that had shown up out of seemingly nowhere yesterday were absolutely fascinating, but according to the both of them none of their other comrades that they had to try and find even looked like they did. Some of the descriptions that they had given too made very little sense to Baranthor and he was sure a lot of the others too.

Big orange wolf with a drill on its forehead and tail? What the heck was a drill?

Big blue robot with a massive horn that looks vaguely like a beetle. What does a robot look like?

Giant dinosaur like creature? He didn't even know where to start with that one.

Man with jet black wings? Okay, now they were just getting silly. Men did not have wings.

Not that they didn't believe them of course, but still, it was rather difficult to get a lock on what they were supposed to be searching for. Still, if they were anything like the other two – i.e. really weird looking – he was sure that he'd be able to find them somewhere.

Not that he had so far.

He curved his way to the west and swung away from the mountains, beating his wings lazily as he decided to head out over more open ground. He knew that he was close to Rivendell, and while the Eagles almost never interacted with Man or Dwarf they would sometimes exchange pleasantries with the Elves. Perhaps he could stop by and ask them if they had seen anything out of the ordinary. Besides, Lord Elrond might be interested to hear about these Digimon if they hadn't already.

But as he soared out towards Rivendell, he immediately discerned that something was wrong the moment he came within two miles of the place. His incredible eyes focused downwards and he flared his wings, pausing to hover and stare.

He could quite clearly see that there was fighting going on down in the valley. He was shocked to see a large horde of Goblins had somehow managed to get within the walls of the city and were currently locked in combat with the Elven forces within, arrows flying and swords clanging against each other in what was rapidly descending into the usual wild chaos of battle, Goblin and Elf furiously pushing back against one another as one strove to protect and the other to destroy.

Baranthor briefly considered going down there to lend a talon to the fighting, but he knew that his mighty wings would like be a hindrance amongst the densely packed buildings and with the fighting so densely packed he was likely to harm some of the Elves no matter how precise his aim was.

And also, he saw something else which was even more alarming – approaching the valley from the south were yet more Goblins. A _LOT_ more, way up into the region of hundreds. Possibly as many as a thousand – good as his eyes were the Eagle couldn't count out all of them individually in one go. They were all scrambling down into the valley and heading towards the far distant Rivendell at high speed.

This was the main force. The ones that had gotten into the city where only an advance strike team.

Baranthor decided his course of action quickly and tilted on his wings, flapping his way down South as fast as the winds would permit, back in the direction of the Eyries. Gwaihir would want to know about this and quickly. The Elves were allies of the Eagles and while the Eagles didn't usually partake in the battles in the world below, an attack on Lord Elrond was not something that they were likely to overlook.

Especially one by Goblins. The Eagles _hated_ Goblins.

* * *

Down on the ground, things looked a lot more violent than they had done to the Eagle up in the air. Goblins flung themselves into the air to try and fall down upon the Elves and carry them to the ground, hooked weapons raised and stabbing down. Many of them were parried or even skewered as they fell, but some of them found their marks and downed or wounded the Elves across the line. Not that there was much of a line anyone – everything had gone to pot in the mad scramble to defend their homes.

Elrond, a furious grimace set on his face that had not appeared there for centuries but now looked like it could have been carved in stone, swept his sword outwards in swift, precise and deadly strokes, wind-milling around like a living weapon. He cut down across yet another pair of Goblins and swung around to lop off the head of another that was trying to bring down and Elven warrior next to him, continuing with the spin to slash another Goblin through the stomach then swinging back to cleave the one behind it in roughly the same place.

Another Goblin that had managed to scale the side of a building suddenly sprung, flailing wildly through the air as it plunged towards the Elven Lord. But Elrond saw its shadow falling across him and left off stabbing another Goblin through the chest to spin around and lance his blade upwards, impaling the falling Goblin along its length and heaving it off to send it knocking another one over.

He then started twirling the blood-stained sword around to slash another that had gotten almost behind him up the middle and sprang forwards to shoulder another aside and seize another by the back of its neck as it bore another Elf to the ground, pulling it back up and running it through before it could do the same to his kin.

"Match them!" he yelled encouragement out to the other Elves. "Beat them back! Do not let your homes and your allies fall to their vile blades."

The Elves roared their assent around him and pushed their way onwards, beating back the Goblins wherever they could, but they were not without casualty themselves – there was many an Elf there that would not be seeing another sunset now.

Glorfindel was still in the thick of things as usual, standing on top of a rock and in plain view of both Elf and Goblin alike as he hacked downwards to slam aside any blade or Goblin that came anywhere near him, flicking his head to the side slightly to avoid an arrow that whooshed past his cheek before springing off to complete a full swinging roll that brought his sword down through one Goblin and up through another in the same motion.

One Goblin managed to get in close to him and hacked a blade at his face but the Elven Lord brought up his sword and blocked it moments before the enemy's attack hit him in the forehead. Unperturbed he simply shoved backwards with such a strength that the Goblin was pierced on its own sword and fell away and he dropped under a strike from another and swept his feet out from under him with a swing of his leg, allowing another Elf next to him to finish him off.

A large hail of arrows suddenly lanced overhead and dropped several more of the Goblins around them, but many of them were able to dance out of reach and hide behind some of the buildings or rocks. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a glance with one another – fighting in the streets like this was making it difficult to co-ordinate anything, particularly since now more Goblins were scaling the sides of the buildings and using them to bound down into the ranks of the Elves, or get a good height to shoot an arrow from, felling more unfortunate Elves amongst the ranks.

"Archers! Focus on the rooftops!" Glorfindel yelled, drawing the attention of the Elves at the rear to respond in kind, their Silverthorn arrows flying and impacting on the Goblins on high with such force that they were lifted almost bodily off their feet and tossed aside, some of them crashing into other Goblins and knocking them off the roof with them.

But that wasn't their only problem, for some of the Goblins had managed to flip over the side of the canyon and scurry down the wall a little, clambering across it to climb back up again at a point a fair distance away from the front lines of the Elves and leap over the edge, snarling and yelling as they jumped towards the unprepared Elves that stood before them and eager for blood.

The first Goblin that leapt up from the canyon and slashed at an Elf missed his target. This was because the Elf was pushed to the side by the stout figure of Glóin the Dwarf, who had been getting annoyed at not being able to reach the fighting through the Elves that packed the area in front of him, but had seen the Goblins trying to outflank them and quickly acted. The Goblin's bade passed harmlessly through the air next to Glóin and the Dwarf swung his mighty hammer and stove the Goblin's head in, dropping the body to the ground.

"Now that's more like it," he said, hefting the hammer as more Goblin's clambered over the edge and snarled at him. "You ugly scum think that you can take on a Dwarf? Well I'll never stop having bones to pick with you and your kind. Come and get me."

The Goblins took him up on the challenge immediately and the first one leapt with a snarl and a slash, but Glóin hefted up his hammer and caught the strike on the handle between this hands before sweeping the broad head of the weapon in to send the Goblin crashing into the side of a building, running forwards on his stout legs to swing his hammer at another as it swung its sword at the same time. The hammer and sword connected, but it was no contest at all, the hammer sent the sword flying out of the Goblins nerveless fingers and Glóin slammed the butt of the hammer into the Goblin's gut and followed up with a smack to the ribs that ended its life.

Another Goblin hopped over the side, but it didn't even get a chance to raise its hooked blade before Glóin smashed his hammer into its abdomen with enough force to send it flying across the canyon to smack into the opposite wall and fall out of sight. Glóin then brought the hammer slamming down on the head of another that was attempting to pull itself over the edge and sent it plummeting down too.

"Anyone else?" Glóin asked, seeing the several Goblins that were still on the canyon wall just out of his reach. They hissed at him but they were wary, and didn't make any attempt to clamber up as if trying to figure out a way of getting up without having to take him on.

"No?" Glóin asked. "Well, alright then," and he stepped back swung his hammer down hard with an almighty crack on the top of the canyon's edge. Once, twice, thrice he brought the hammer down in terrific blows that splintered the very rock and sent several large chunks of it cascading downwards. Several of the Goblins were struck but the falling stone and knocked loose, squealing as they plummeted down into the depths.

"I'll have to thank Dwalin for giving me that idea next time I see him," Glóin muttered as he turned back towards the action, just in time to see a shadow leaping from the building above him and reforming itself into a Goblin that landed on his back and grabbed hold, its long and crabby fingers grappling for a hold and pulling as his hair and beard as it tried to reach around and get at his throat with a knife. Glóin flailed and yelled as the Goblin clung on, but the Dwarf eventually just leapt backwards and slammed his back to the ground with the Goblin underneath him.

The Goblin's breath left it with a whoosh of air and it screeched painfully under the Dwarf's superior weight. Its limbs went slack and Glóin pushed himself back up, swinging around and swiping his hammer down with an almighty blow that finished the job.

The battle seemed to be turning now in favour of the Elves the numerous archers that were hanging back following the Goblin's own example and climbing to greater heights wherever they could to zip arrows over the heads of their brethren. Glorfindel and Elrond were now fighting side by side, swinging their blades into the mass of scraggly beings before them and twisting around one another to attack from all sides. Glorfindel slammed a fist into a Goblin's neck and dropped it as Elrond, with a swift spinning motion of his sword, sliced off the leg of another Goblin and then cut a diagonal line up another from hip to shoulder.

"Drive them back!" Elrond roared over the fighting. "Abolish them from our homeland."

The Elves replied in kind and waded into the foes, and the Goblin lines broke under their defences, scattering backwards with mad chittering as they tried to run for their lives, many of them mown down by the arrows falling from behind. But just as a cheer went up amongst the Elves and the started to give chase, an ear-splitting roar suddenly echoed from the passages up ahead, making the blood of many of the Elves freeze over.

They all knew what could make a roar like that.

But how was that possible?

Yet, their suspicions were confirmed the huge, hulking shape of a Troll lumbered out from around the corner, a massive chunk of stone clutched in its thick hands and a furious snarl on its face. The Elves quailed in shock as the Troll lifted its club-like arms and threw the boulder like it was a living catapult. The Elves scattered but the boulder still crushed several of them into the ground and slammed into the side of a building, heavily impacting against it and producing a shower of wood and stone as it splintered the wall.

"Trolls!" Glorfindel yelled, even as another emerged from around the corner at a shuffling run, an uprooted tree in its hand that it raised above its head as it thundered towards the shocked Elves, which quickly hurried backwards as it swept the tree down, knocking two unfortunates flying and sending them flailing into the canyon below.

Elrond gritted his teeth as he yelled out, trying to rally the Elves back together, but he could understand their confusion. Most species of Troll, including the Cave Troll which these two most definitely resembled, were supposed to turn to stone when they were exposed to sunlight, and yet these two were running around in broad daylight perfectly unharmed.

He knew what must be behind this – he had heard tell of Sauron creating a new type of Troll called the Olog-Hai, which were capable of moving about in the day, and had made variants of Olog-Hai that resembled all the various Troll species, including Mountain Trolls, Hill Trolls, Cave Trolls and Snow Trolls. But to think that such Trolls had managed to spread so far north already! It was an ill tiding.

And not just because Rivendell was experiencing it's very first Troll attack.

"Rally, Elves!" Elrond called as the Trolls closed in towards them, the Goblins around them regaining their confidence now that they had appeared and charging forwards towards them once again. "Do not succumb to panic! Fight for your homes!"

The Troll with the tree turned towards him with a roar and brought his club slamming down like a bat, but Elrond rolled to the side and back onto his feet with relative ease. The Troll swept the tree out after him and this time Elrond sprang right over the massive weapon, diving over the top of it and rolling to a stop before he darted in close towards the troll and slashed his sword across its knee.

The Troll roared in pain and anger and kicked out with its foot, narrowly avoiding hitting Elrond as he span around and hacked at the Troll's ankle on its other foot. Despite its injuries the Troll swung around to face him and piledrove a fist down at him, hoping to smear him against the ground. But Elrond was too nimble and dodged backwards, taking the opportunity of the Troll being bent over to spring forwards and strike out with his sword to hit the Troll right in the face on over it left eye.

The Troll howled and stumbled backwards, clutching at it face and just managing to keep hold of the club. The sound of its pain helped to calm the other Elves down and think logically – Trolls were powerful creatures but they were no stronger than they used to be now that they could walk in daylight. They could be beaten too. So they hurried back into the action and re-attacked the Goblins once more as the Troll snarled and went after Elrond with a vengeance, black blood now covering its injured eye.

Elrond dodged and ducked as the tree club swung and slammed down towards him, passing low over his head and then sweeping diagonally downwards through the spot where had just been before the Troll raised it again over his head and brought it crashing down with both hands hard enough to shatter the ground as it missed Elrond once again. Elrond swiftly sprang onto the tree-trunk and dashed straight up its length before the Troll could process what he was doing and swept his sword across its other eye.

The Troll, now blind, released the tree trunk as Elrond flipped down to the ground and swung itself around madly, clawing at its face as if hoping that would bring its sight back and stamping on a few Goblins that were unlucky enough to get too close. It even managed to slam the other Troll, which had been throwing more boulders until it came closer to try and get a better shot, in the face and knocked it off its feet.

Elrond quickly took the opportunity and ran in to slash the Troll against its other knee. The Troll's leg buckled underneath it and it stumbled to the sideways, right towards the edge of the chasm. It tilted on the edge and them plummeted off with a bellow, dragging stonework down with it as it fell to its death.

The other Troll scrambled to its feet with a snarl, nursing its face for a moment and lifted up another boulder from the ground. It spotted Glorfindel nearby sweeping his sword through no less than four Goblins that were trying to pile in around him and growled, lifting the boulder over his head to take aim at the Elf. But before it could throw it, a heavy blow suddenly slammed down onto its foot and it howled, dropping the boulder, which fell with a resounding crack on its own head and split in two, dropping into halves on either side of it and momentarily stunning the Troll.

The perpetrator of the blow to the foot, Glóin, stepped to the side as the half-boulder rolled past him, and glared up at the Troll. "Fancy some grilled Dwarf?" he asked. "Because I know three other Trolls that once did and now they're big chunks of masonry."

The Troll was still rather dazed, but it recognised an opponent and tried to stamp down on the taunting Dwarf, but Glóin was surprisingly nimble on his feet for someone off his stature and ran to the side, swinging his hammer it to crash heavily against the Troll's knee. The Troll stumbled over and swung out with a hand even as it fell but Glóin hurried past it and slammed it in the back of its other knee to bring it crashing down onto them, before he spun back around and swung his hammer up so hard that his feet physically left the ground, crashing the business end right underneath the Troll's chin with a terrific crack.

The Troll tried to roar in pain, but its jaw had been broken by the blow and that only made it hurt worse. Still, the blow made the Troll's blood start boiling with rage and it lashing out with one hand to seize Glóin around the waist and haul him into the air, preparing to smash him against the nearest cliff wall. Glóin growled as he slammed his hammer into the Troll's elbow hard enough for it to stop and flinch but it did not let him go.

That was when Glorfindel came running in and bounded off the cliff wall to slash into the Troll's arm in pretty much the same place that Glóin had hit it with the hammer. The Troll spasmed and dropped Glóin to the ground in a rather undignified heap as the Elf spun around to swipe across the Troll's stomach with his blade, sending it stumbling backwards.

"Hey, I had him right where I wanted him," Glóin protested as he pushed himself back to his feet. "I didn't need you butting in."

"You're welcome," Glorfindel nodded dryly as the Troll pushed itself back up and snarled at them, gripping another rock in its big hands and hefting it upwards. Elf and Dwarf both dodged to either side as the boulder slammed into the ground between them and then they ran forwards side by side. Momentarily at least because Glorfindel outpaced Glóin quite quickly and blazed into battle, his light seeming to intensify and forcing the Troll to shield its eyes before it could swipe at him.

Glorfindel dodged past the Troll and leapt up at it, scrambling up its back like a spider running up a wall and sweeping his sword down to slash into the side of the Troll's neck. The Troll buckled and choked, falling to one knee as Glóin reached it and swung his hammer up moments later to impact it into the Troll's throat. The double attack to his neck proved to be too much for the great beast and with a rattling groan he toppled to the side, Glorfindel nimbly bounding off to land beside the Dwarf as they both turned around and slammed their weapons into Goblins that had gotten too close simultaneously.

"Well," Glóin grunted. "Nevertheless, that was some pretty decent swordplay there."

"Thank you," Glorfindel nodded. "And your hammer blows truly lived up to their name."

"Glad to hear it. But I still could have taken him myself."

"I have no doubt," Glorfindel chuckled, turning away.

At seeing the two Trolls fold, the remaining Goblins lost their confidence once again and squealed, hurrying away once more, dashing back the way they had come and scrambling over rocks and the fallen bodies of other Goblins in order to escape. The celebratory mood came back to the Elves at their triumph and they made to give chase, but Glorfindel, ears pricking, raised his hand to halt their advance.

"Not to worry, Elves," he said. "Let them go."

"Let them go?" Glóin protested. "Have you taken a blow to the head, Elf?"

"No, but trust me. They will not escape," Glorfindel chuckled.

Right on cue, a horn rang out amongst the rocks – a horn that was quite notably an Elvish one, and the other combatants became aware of a pounding sound that seemed to be coming from the ground itself – a rumbling that could only be one thing; the sound of many hooves beating against the soil.

Sure enough as the Goblins tried to scramble to safety over twenty horses, most of the white but a couple of them other colours, suddenly spurred their way around the corner and across the bridge that the Goblins were trying to escape across, each one bearing an Elven rider kitted in full armour and each one holding a long lance, some green banners with a giant leaf embroidered into the weaving tied to the ends. The remaining Goblin were instantly mown down before they could do much more than try and pull to a halt, impaled by the lances or crushed underneath the pounding hooves of the gallant steeds.

And at the head of the party, wielding a long sword as curved as those as most Elves, rode an Elven woman with long black hair and a face that was considered fair even among their own kind, for all Elves had fair faces, but this rider was considered a great beauty even by them. But that didn't make her any less deadly with her blade, as she swung down from the back of her mount to cleave through any Goblin that drew too close.

"Ah," Glorfindel nodded. "There's my horse. Seems I was right and the Lady of the House did indeed take Asfaloth out with her again."

The rider in question was indeed Arwen Undómiel, the latter name being Elvish for 'evening star' – Daughter of Elrond and the Lady of Rivendell. Unlike the other Elves she was garbed in her long, flowing blue robe rather than armour – Arwen never wore armour even into battle as she preferred to be a light as possible. She pulled up in front of the other amassed Elves as they cheered for their victory over the Goblins, the other mounts doing the same behind her, and she quickly and nimbly sprang off the horse's back.

This was the woman who in love with Aragorn, destined King of Gondor. There were many that had sought her hand in the past, but it would seem that Aragorn had won it. Glorfindel chuckled at the thought – he was good friends with Aragorn and in some ways considered him quite a lucky Man for it. But, at the same time, quite unlucky for the same reasons.

But those were not important right now. What was important was that Arwen had returned to Rivendell safely.

"Father," Arwen ran over to Lord Elrond, casting an eye over the dead Troll lying nearby as she hugged him. "I am glad to see that you are safe."

"And I you, my Daughter," Elrond replied, returning the hug. "You are uninjured?"

"Yes, Father," Arwen nodded, pulling back.

"So, it seems that you really have taken a fancy to my horse then, my Lady," Glorfindel stepped over to them with Glóin in tow, resting a hand on his beautiful white steed's nose, the horse nuzzling him affectionately.

"My apologies, Glorfindel," Arwen offered him a smile. "But he is a wonderful creature. But… to think that Goblins could have gotten so far within our borders…"

"I know," Elrond nodded. "Perhaps I should have been more vigilant. Were it not for Glorfindel's timely return the outcome of this battle could have been far worse than it was. And we have already lost a few lives on this day."

Arwen grimaced as she avoided looking at the bodies of the fallen Elves, knowing that she would know every one of them by name. "Then we are least fortunate in that respect," she said. "The lancers and I destroyed a Goblin camp to the West of here and were on our way straight back to warn you of it instead of taking our full route. And it seems it is a good thing we did."

"Indeed, but it is not over yet," Elrond noted. "I sense it."

"And I can confirm it," Arwen nodded. "During our ride through the passes we saw more Goblins heading towards us in large numbers through the valley. They're setting up camp across the river as we speak. They do not mean to leave so easily, I fear."

"They certainly are persistent," Glóin nodded. "So much for going home soon."

"True, but there's something off about this," Glorfindel pointed out. "This is not normal Goblin behaviour. Not only are they attacking during the day, which they ordinarily never do, but they are far more organised than I have ever seen them be. The advanced scout party I can understand, but somehow they found out about our passes in from the West and set up another party to strike at us from the side while we were pre-occupied."

"That's a point," Glóin agreed, pressing his hammer against the ground. "Most Goblins are _not_ the most strategic of creatures. You gather a group of thirty and they'll still have very little brain between them. They usually just attack in a rabble and try and overwhelm the enemy with numbers. And while they did do something like that this time as well, they still used strategy to catch us off guard. They don't normally think that far ahead."

"Indeed not," Elrond agreed, stepping away as the others followed on behind him, the Elves falling into step around them and leading their horses where they had them. "Though while there are some Goblins that are cleverer than most there has been no main leading force for the Goblins for sixty years now – not since the Great Goblin was killed by Gandalf and the Orc Warrior Azog and his son Bolg were slain in battle. Yet it would seem to me that the Goblins must now have a new leader. One who can do the thinking for them."

"Sauron?" Glorfindel asked.

"Most likely at the top of the chain," Elrond nodded. "But I was referring to a subordinate of his – a new chieftain specifically for the Goblins of the mountains. Sauron does not co-ordinate every assault personally after all. Perhaps a new Goblin King has emerged from the shadows somewhere."

"Ill news indeed," Arwen murmured.

"Yes, but we can dwell on it more later," Elrond said, stepping onto a nearby wall and looking out across the valley – a dark mass covering the ground in the distance could be quite clearly seen now, just beyond the range of the Elven arrows. "Right now, we have more immediate concerns. We must act now and clear our valley of the Goblin filth."

* * *

For those of you who are less versed in the Lord of the Rings world, which there may be some of you, Glorfindel is not an original Elf of mine – he was in the books and was also in the Battle for Middle Earth II game which I am basing a good deal of this chapter off, and he is definitely an incredibly powerful warrior – I believe in Tolkien's first plans it was Glorfindel who was going to be a member of the Fellowship until he decided to make it Legolas instead. And here he is now, kicking butt. Hope you liked him and Glóin, because they will be appearing a lot more in the future.

And the battle still isn't over. Geehee.

* * *

Next time…

The attack on Imladris continues, with the small Elven force preparing to head out and try and deal with the Goblins on their doorstep. But some distance away, the Baranthor returns to the eyrie with news of the assault. And the Eagles are not the only beings to hear about it.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 29 : Can't Turn Our Backs**


	29. Can't Turn Our Backs

Heya everyone. This chapter is slightly later than I would have liked but as usual I got caught up in some uni work. And yet here I am again, with the next update. Hopefully you will enjoy the second part of this battle chapter, and that's really all I have to say for now.

**Ormazd** – Heh, I love your enthusiasm and the fact that you like the story, mate. It's very uplifting and means a lot. But I feel I should point out that while most people reading this have probably seen the movies or read the books, not all of them will have played the Battle for Middle Earth games, so I hope you won't take offence if I ask you not to write about what happens in future in those games in the reviews you leave. It would be appreciated because it can leave spoilers for some. That said, things won't play out in quite the same ways as in the games anyway, so you may be in few a few surprises yet. Hehe. Hope you enjoy them and I hope that you keep reading through to the end.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 29:- Can't Turn Our Backs**

* * *

"What's in those woodlands out there?" Sparrowmon asked as she flew a couple of miles or so above the ground in a slow, elegant curve – scouring the ground below for any sign of her missing friends.

"That?" Beleram clarified as he moved in beside her momentarily. "That is the giant forest of Mirkwood. It's Middle Earth's biggest woodland and, well, there are Elves that make their homes down there along with many other typical forest creatures. But we don't go down there. After all, we don't exactly fit in dense woodlands."

"Do you think it's possible that any of my friends could be in there?" Sparrowmon asked.

"Well, I don't know. I don't even fully understand the circumstances with which you found yourselves in this world. I can't really guess as to where your friends might be."

"Well, all I know is that the first thing I remember about being in this world is waking up from unconsciousness on the side of a hill and being poked with a stick," Sparrowmon replied. "And that was a long way from here."

"And I woke up on a ledge on the side of a mountain half buried in snow," MailBirdramon offered. "Not very far from here. And there's been no sign of any of our friends so far. I believe it's safe to assume that if we were all thrown into the same universe, we've probably been scattered around its whole length."

"That's reassuring," Sparrowmon muttered dryly. "But you're saying it IS possible for some of our friends to be in that woodland, right?"

"Yes," MailBirdramon nodded. "But I don't fancy my chances of finding any of them in there myself. I can't fit into an environment like that and that canopy is so thick that its obscuring us from finding anything beneath it. If there are some friends of ours in there, I won't be finding them until they come out."

Sparrowmon bit her lip. "Well, what if I went down there and took a look?"

"You could try," MailBirdramon muttered. "It might be worth a shot, but that looks like some pretty dark and dense woodland. I question how much you yourself would be able to move around or even see in there. Unless you blow thing up of course."

"Oh, I would not recommend that," Beleram replied. "The Elves would not take kindly to someone destroying their forest, no matter how good their intentions were or how successful they become. It is not a good idea to get an Elf on your bad side. Particularly not all of them at once."

"I'm beginning to see many potential problems of finding them," Sparrowmon sighed. "There are so many places that they could be that we can't see them from the air. I'm sure I've seen three separate forests since we got here and there's rocks and caves they could be hiding under or in. I miss the Digital World. Everything there is giant sized. Mostly."

"Regardless, we still have a better chance than most," MailBirdramon replied. "We can cover a lot more ground in an hour than they can in a day, or even a week if we put our minds to it. We shouldn't be discouraged. I'm sure they're out there somewhere. Though we may have to widen the search parameter a little."

"Yeah, I know," Sparrowmon sighed. "But it's just so… sooo frustrating. Where are they? I want to make sure that everyone is alright and I haven't found anyone except you since I got here, MailBirdramon."

"Well at least that's a start," MailBirdramon related. "And we'll find the others in due course. Lord Gwaihir told us that Shoutmon, Mervamon and Cutemon were safe."

"You hope," Sparrowmon muttered. "And so do I."

Both of them had a point. They had been up now for some time. When the Eagles had roused them at dawn, having spent the night watching the in some cases just to make extra sure they didn't try and pull anything funny, the lot of them immediately began to talk amongst themselves about what direction they would take before reporting back with any results that they might have.

Gwaihir had stood tall and directed them, motioning in various directions with his massive winds and saying things like, "Baranthor, swing up by the Carrock and over the Trollshaws. Armenel, you take The Angle and check around the two rivers in that area. Landroval, my brother, you head south towards the Dimrill Dale and then back into Eregion," and a bunch of other things that made very little sense to either of the Digimon. Neither of them knew anything about these places, so they were mostly relying on a guide.

Since Beleram had already struck up a friendship with Sparrowmon and his wounds sustained by his captors at Fornost had mostly healed over he was assigned to guide the two of them around the area of the River Gladden, and that was what they had been doing for some time now, scanning the ground with their sharp eyes and incredible vision, particularly in Beleram's case.

So far, they had found nothing, and Sparrowmon was becoming agitated already, even though the searching had barely begun really. It had been going for a few hours now but still that seemed like a very long time indeed to the yellow armoured Digimon.

"You never know," Beleram stated as he spurred himself lower to the ground to scan the side of the river. "Some of my brethren may have found something by the time that we return to the eyries."

"I just hope that if they do see a Digimon they recognise it as a Digimon," Sparrowmon said. She'd had to explain what some of them looked like but words had never exactly been her strong suit – that was usually blowing things up – but she'd tried and Gwaihir had instructed them to report anything that looked out of place. But how out of place would some of the Digimon even be in this universe? What if they spotted Lunamon and thought she was just a regular rabbit because who knew what the rabbits looked like in this dimension?

Actually, she found out the answer to that question when Beleram suddenly steeped into a dive and plunged towards the ground. Sparrowmon whirled back around in alarm, watching as he plunged towards the ground, bringing his wings back and extending his feet as he levelled off, snatching something off the ground in his talons before soaring back up into the air with it.

Sparrowmon's eyes were wide as she saw the brown rabbit clutched in one foot – the thing was barely big enough to be held in just one of Beleram's claws. But as she watched, Beleram deftly brought his feet up and took the rabbit in his beak, downing it in one go and swallowing.

Beleram caught the look that Sparrowmon was giving her and asked, "What? I was hungry?"

"You eat rabbits then?" Sparrowmon asked faintly.

"Well, we are carnivorous birds," pointed out Beleram. "But rabbits don't make much more of a light snack to us. We mostly hunt deer."

"Okay," Sparrowmon replied. "Just promise me that you won't go and attack and eat any white rabbits that you see walking on two legs, okay?"

"I assume that you are referring to one of your Digimon friends?" Beleram questioned.

"Yes, Lunamon," nodded Sparrowmon. "Really sweet little Digimon. Oh gosh… what if one of the other Eagles sees her and decides to go for her for a light snack. Why did I not describe her back at the nest?"

"Calm yourself, Sparrowmon," MailBirdramon advised from up ahead, looking over his shoulder with the aid of his long neck as he did so. "I am sure Lunamon will be fine. She looks nothing like that rabbit did other than the fact she has large ears. No Eagle would be foolish enough to eat her if they didn't know what she was. They might think she was radioactive or something."

"What's radioactive?" Beleram asked.

MailBirdramon blinked, then added, "Well they might think that something is wrong with her in any case."

"I hope so," Sparrowmon sighed. "I really do."

"Try not to stress yourself out," MailBirdramon chuckled. "It's only going to make things harder for you, you know."

"Says the one with the endless patience," Sparrowmon muttered. "I can't help it if I'm a lot faster paced than you."

"Maybe not, but you could try slowing yourself down for your own sake. And in other news, I see another Eagle up ahead. Coming towards us."

"It's Baranthor," Beleram said. "He was supposed to head up to the north west to look around. Perhaps he will have some of the news that you seek, Sparrowmon."

"He certainly seems to be flying at pace," MailBirdramon noted the Eagle's heavily beating wings, which was not the way that an Eagle usually flew – they preferred soaring and gliding on the thermals to avoid wasting energy."

"Let's go talk to him," Sparrowmon replied, before she motored forwards on her jets, MailBirdramon and Beleram moving in to either side of her as they approached the heavily flying Eagle at speed.

"Baranthor," Beleram hailed him when they got within hearing range. "How goes the search?"

"Oh I found something," Baranthor called out. "But it isn't one of those Digimon and it certainly is not something that I wanted to find either."

"What's going on?" Beleram asked as Baranthor flew on past them, wheeling around to fly in his slipstream a little. Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon looked at each other curiously, hovering steadily in bemusement for a moment before they both silently decided to fall in and see what was happening, spurting ahead to rejoin the two Eagles.

"I'll tell you shortly," Baranthor replied. "But I have to report this to Lord Gwaihir immediately. Who knows how much time we have."

"Sounds urgent," MailBirdramon observed.

"Oh, it is," Baranthor replied, but he said nothing more as he went, powering his wings up and down so he was flying more like a pigeon than an Eagle, which was not easy for a bird with such a heavy body.

The four of them flew on in silence for a while. The two Digimon had to admit that they were finding it just a tiny bit frustrating that they were unable to fly at their full speed in their present company, of they would leave the two Eagles far behind quite quickly. The birds were very swift and agile fighters for creatures of their size that had no access to jets, but the jets on the wings of the Digimon would really make all the difference in a situation like this.

* * *

Still, they were not far from the eyrie site and it was not long before they arrived. The eaglets chirped and bounced up and down excitedly at their return while the mother Eagles that had not gone out searching tried to hush them up, and Sparrowmon pointedly did not look at the corpse of the deer that one of said mother was feeding to her children peace by peace.

Gwaihir was, thankfully, there at the eyrie. As was Meneldor the Swift. The two of them were the fastest flyers of the group after all, so they had already completed their circuits on their routes that they were meant to search and had returned to the eyrie to wait and give their reports along with the others when they returned.

"Ah, here come some others," Gwaihir nodded as the four other fliers came in towards them. "Along with our two honoured guests, I see. Have you any luck…"

"My Lord Gwaihir!" Baranthor cried, coming in to land so fast and so out of breath that he staggered on the clifftop as he landed on it and almost went pitching over the side and off the cliff. Nevertheless, he managed to regain his balance with his wings and by latching his claws into the rock as best he could, before he righted himself and gasped for breath, his wings sagging against the ground instead of being tucked at his side, which really indicated the effort that he had put into getting here as fast as possible. "News! Terrible news from the North. The Goblins of the mountains have emerged from their caves and are in the middle of what looks like a full-scale assault on Rivendell."

"What?!" Gwaihir cried, his feathers instinctively spreading outwards as if trying to make himself look even bigger than he already was. "Tell me everything. What did you see?"

"I was flying West over towards the Trollshaws on my intended route," Baranthor said quickly, "and on a whim I thought I would fly to Rivendell for a brief stop and ask Lord Elrond if he knew anything about these Digimon that we're supposed to be looking for. But when I flew overhead I could see huge swarms of Goblins heading down the valley towards the city of Imladris. And I even saw that there were many Goblins that had managed to get into the valley itself and were in the middle of fighting with the Elves that lived there."

"They've gotten inside?" Gwaihir asked with great alarm. "But that has never happened before in Rivendell's entire history. Not according to what we know anyway and we know a lot since Elrond has been living their throughout that entire history."

"I know," Baranthor gasped. "Which is why I thought I would hurry back and… let you know immediately. There was no way I could have helped without risk of collateral damage but…"

"It is alright, Baranthor," Gwaihir said quickly. "You did the right thing by coming to alert me. Thank Eru that I was here at the time. You have made a long journey at high speed that no Eagle can go without exhausting themselves. Rest and recover, and leave the rest of this situation to me."

As Baranthor nodded in relief and began to move towards his eyrie to sag down amongst the twigs, MailBirdramon alighted nearby and said, "I do not understand. What is happening?"

"There is a city of Elves to the North, known as Rivendell," Gwaihir said quickly. "The people that live there are amongst our closest allies down in the world below, though by and large we still have very little to do with them. And now they are apparently being attacked by creatures that are foes of all the forces of good – the Goblins."

"The same kind of creatures that were holding me prisoner at Fornost," Beleram clarified to Sparrowmon.

"Gosh, they were creepy," Sparrowmon shuddered. "How many of them are there?"

"Nobody could say for sure but well into the tens of thousands at least across the world," Gwaihir replied. "They are merciless and cruel and will hack down anything that they think they can get away with taking on. Unless they are driven away, they will slaughter every last Elf in Rivendell, burn down their homes and utterly sack the fortress."

As the Digimon's eyes widened in serious alarm, Meneldor stepped forwards and said, "But it's the middle of the day, isn't it? Goblins never attack in the middle of the day. They can't stand the sunlight."

"And yet they are this time, it would seem," Gwaihir replied. "Baranthor's eyes are as sharp as any other Eagle's. He will not have been mistaken."

"Thank you," called Baranthor over from where he was still gasping.

"Well, surely we have to do something, don't we?" Sparrowmon said immediately, spreading her short arms out wide. "We can't just stay here and let them do it."

"And we won't," Gwaihir said, pointedly. "I would have preferred it if there were more Eagles here but unfortunately the search has them spread out looking for your companions. We will have to manage with the three Eagles that we have here. Beleram, Meneldor, with me. Regardless of how little time we spend with the Elven folk of Rivendell they are still our allies. And we will not allow the Goblins that besmirch the insides of our mountains to raid on them as they please within the shadow of our own homes. Come! We must fly for Rivendell and for battle at once!"

With a surge of his wings, Gwaihir lifted himself into the air, throwing himself off the cliff to catch the wind beneath his wings and wing his way northwards. Beleram and Meneldor followed his example, falling into a V formation on either side of him. They flew fast, but not as fast as Baranthor, for they would need to have their strength when they reached their destination if they were to contribute to the fighting.

"Hey!" Sparrowmon cried as she motored after them, MailBirdramon blasting into the air as well and scaring a lot of the eaglets with the noise. "Hey, wait! We're coming with you! I've fought those Goblins before and I'm not going to just let those creeps do what they want."

"You are not a member of my colony," Gwaihir replied. "I cannot order you to do anything. Are you sure that you want to come and help?"

"Are you kidding?" Sparrowmon asked. "Of course! We're Xros Heart Digimon after all!"

"It's the motto that we uphold that explains it all," MailBirdramon added as he swung in beneath Gwaihir. "The words which spread across the entire Digital World and which inspired the rise of the army that liberated our world from its own Dark Lord and his own forces. And I'm afraid that every Digimon who becomes a member of Xros Heart gets infected with what we like to call the…"

"'Can't Turn Your Back complex'" Sparrowmon added brightly. "You say that there's innocent people under threat of suffering and being killed by grimy, evil little monsters then we're there to be the first line of defence if we can make it before the attack starts, and blow anything that threatens an innocent person to smithereens."

Gwaihir chuckled. "Truly remarkable you are, Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon. Very well, by all means follow on and join us in this fight if that is what you want. We could do with the help after all. The Goblins may get a surprise or two from you."

"Oh they will, Lord Gwaihir," Beleram nodded with the biggest smirk his beak could allow. "I saw Sparrowmon fight at Fornost. She's one of the most deadly forces I've ever come across, especially when she's riled, and I can deduce that from only the one battle I've seen her in."

"And we fought MailBirdramon," Meneldor chuckled. "I think it's very possible that we could have come out as the losers in that conflict if it had not been for the timely arrival of our reinforcements and the stop to the battle."

"I must admit," Gwaihir stated. "I have been curious to see what a Digimon is capable of ever since Gandalf told me of their appearance here in our world. I suppose today is the day."

"Let's get 'em!" Sparrowmon grinned. "Lead the way."

* * *

The situation in Rivendell had not really changed. Now that they had driven out the Goblin invaders from the passages to the West and the two Trolls had been defeated, several sentries had been posted around the western entrances, looking up high and down low between them – Goblin attacks could come from any direction and there was no guarantee whatsoever that the Goblins that had been repelled was the only party that were set to come in from the westerly direction.

Meanwhile, the Goblins out in the valley were standing about uncertainly a fair distance away from the city, just beyond the range of the Elven longbow arrows. They were hovering about, weaving in and amongst themselves and occasionally breaking into fights as if waiting for some kind of signal. Possibly they were waiting to see if the party that had been sent around the passages proved to be successful, but they had no way of knowing, as of yet, whether it had been a success or not.

That had given the Elves a little more time to prepare, and they were beginning to saddle up as many horses as they could spare. Elven horses were fine beasts indeed, raised their whole lives in Rivendell. Only the Mearas, a breed of wild horses that lived in Rohan to the South and the breed to which Gandalf's horse Shadowfax belonged, could be considered finer.

But Rivendell was not an army fortification. In times gone by it had been, but now it was considered mostly to be a sanctuary and a home only. Many Elves still trained in combat of course, but there were not as many of them here as there were in places like Lórien and Mirkwood. Their military was quite small in comparison – tiny in fact – and while most of that military was extremely skilled, numbers certainly would have been more helpful.

There were still around fifty or so horses within Rivendell itself and all of them were now being kitted out in preparation for battle. Glorfindel oversaw the preparations and hurried the Elves on, the Lady Arwen nearby and preparing another horse of her own since Asfaloth would be ridden by his true owner in the upcoming fight, which was an inevitable outcome.

Elrond had moved up to a higher point in the city in order to get a good look at the Goblin force. "Look at them," he murmured to himself as he watched them. "Tarnishing and sullying our beloved valley like this." He could see several of them starting to cut down the trees and chop them into pieces with little axes, as well as start to dig some pits in the ground with their bare hands to act as little and temporary burrows. The former of those in particular raised Elrond's ire.

"The Goblins will pay for this," he murmured as he headed down. Fortunately he had not seen any more Trolls out there amongst the Goblin forces, nor had he seen any other potential allies that they might have had. The fact that the enemy was Goblins alone was a relief, for a single Troll under the right circumstances could be as damaging as fifty Goblins, if not more.

* * *

"Agh, when are we going to take the fight out to them?" Glóin grumbled as he bumped his hammer impatiently against a nearby rock. "I'm growing tired of all this waiting around."

"As long as the Goblins are not striking at us, we will take our time," Glorfindel replied as he rested a soothing hand on Asfaloth's nose. "We may have some reinforcements of our own on the way."

"What makes you say that, Elf?" Glóin asked, looking up with a frown.

"One of our sentries stated that he saw one of the Giant Eagles of the mountains soaring high over the battlefield," Glorfindel replied with a smile. "I know you are familiar with those Eagles, Master Glóin – I believe they saved you and your company many years ago from death when you were attacked by Azog the Defiler."

"Speak not that vile name," Glóin grumbled. "But you believe that Eagle saw what was happening?"

"Eagle eyes are sharper than even our own," Glorfindel admitted. "He will have seen the battle and the sentry reported that he flew South quickly in the direction of the eyries that their main colony has and their Windlord, Gwaihir, rules."

"We must hope that they come and help us," Arwen agreed from nearby. "Their help in this fight would be invaluable for they are truly formidable creatures. And we bear a good relationship to them whenever they fly up and visit us, and Gwaihir is a personal friend of Gandalf's. I am sure they will come."

"Well, that's good," Glóin nodded. "I remember how they fought. I must admit, I would not like such birds as my enemies. The Orcs did, and they had talon and beak put to them in great force."

"Indeed," Glorfindel chuckled.

Elrond approached quickly and said, "How goes the preparations? Are we ready to ride out?"

"I believe so, Father," Arwen nodded. "The Lancers are almost fully prepared, but there are more Elves here than there are horses. Many of us will have to go on foot."

"Good," nodded Elrond. "That is what I want. When we ride out, I want the lancers, led by the two of you – Glorfindel and Arwen – to plunge as deep into the Goblin forces as you dare right from the go, before turning around and fighting your way back towards Rivendell. Glóin, myself and the foot-soldiers will follow on and we can catch the first portion of the army in as much of a pincer movement as we can."

"Interesting plan, my lord, but what about…" Glorfindel started, but…

"THEY'RE INVADING!" cried an Elf from the top of the wall as all of the archers stationed up there simultaneously withdrew an arrow from their quivers and let fly with them, sending a buzzing line of angry-sounding projectiles flashing out across the chasm. The Goblin ranks had broken at the front of the line, evidently having gotten tired of waiting to see if their other force had won, or not hearing enough damage being done to the city or seeing enough smoke for them to guess that it had been defeated.

They were now swarming towards the bridge and the front gates en masse, in their peculiar, bow-legged, bouncing run.

"We have no more time for discussion," Elrond said, drawing his sword. "Prepare to move out! We must stop them as soon as possible and attempt to keep the fighting away from the walls of the canyon if we can."

Glorfindel nodded and Arwen drew her own sword, hurrying to their steeds.

"Finally," Glóin muttered. "I got some more bones to pick and even more to break."

"You shall get your chance, Master Dwarf," Elrond nodded, before hurrying away to marshal the swords-elves, Glóin running along behind him.

The ammunition of the Elves thudded into the goblins with a vicious ferocity, the silverthorn arrows doing exactly what they were designed to and slamming into the Goblins so hard that any that was hit by the large missiles was literally thrown off their feet and slammed backwards, crashing into some of their comrades and in some cases the arrows even went straight through one target and impaled another.

The bodies of the front Goblins fell to the ground, white-feathered arrows sticking out of heads, necks and chests and up into the air, but more Goblins just swarmed over the top of them, snapping some of the arrows underneath their feet as they trod on their comrades without any remorse or grief at their deaths whatsoever.

Some of the Goblins were archers and paused as soon as they got within range of the walls to let loose arrows of their own in reply, the volley from the Goblins mingling with another volley from the Elves that shot outwards in either direction, a small number of arrows colliding in thin air and pinging off each other but the majority of them passing on.

The Elven archers were relatively protected by the battlements, which were higher than the Elves themselves, made of wood and had a roof, meaning that the Elves were firing through the large window-like gaps between them. Most of the Goblin arrows clattered harmlessly off the battlement roof or embedded in the wood, but a couple of them slipped through. Some of the Elves were nimble and quick enough to leap aside and let the arrow fly in to hit the wood at the back harmlessly, but not all could say this and they fell back with the shafts sticking out of their bodies, their long-lived existences finally brought to an end.

"They're coming in force!" one of the archers cried as the remaining Goblins bunched together, heading towards the bridge. As they did so they became even easier to hit because they were so densely packed and they were practically falling on top of each other in an attempt to get through the cloud of arrows.

"We must not let them reach the bridge!" Glorfindel yelled as he bounded square onto Asfaloth's back, the horse nickering in anticipation of the coming battle. "Open the gates! Swiftly!"

Two Elves on the walls hurried to obey him, seizing the winch and spinning it deftly and easily. The gates swiftly opened while some of the Elves were still getting organised, but Glorfindel knew that if they reached the bridge they would be able to swarm underneath it and get close to the wall and that was not something he was prepared to risk. He raised his sword, his glow intensifying in the bright sunlight so his silver armour acted like a beacon and Asfaloth bucked forwards and pounded through the gates even as they were half open.

"Protect the house of Elrond!" Arwen called as she spurred her own horse onwards, the lancers rallying behind her as they densely packed together and charged across the bridge with the pounding of hooves rattling through the air as they went, with Glorfindel out in front. The Goblins hesitated as they beheld the golden-haired Elf bearing down on them with the backing of many more mounted forces.

"Your corruption ends here!" Glorfindel yelled, arcing his sword high into the air and bringing it slashing down through a Goblin's chest as Asfaloth practically leapt into the packed ranks of the Goblins with a frenzied whinny. The startled Goblins fell back under his assault, stunned by the speed of it as Asfaloth pounded through them, slamming Goblins to the ground with his legs as crashed his way through them and stamping them into the ground beneath his hooves.

Glorfindel set a shining example to other Elves as his horse almost literally waded into the battle. His sword flashed and hacked downwards on either side of him, arcing over and over the head of the horse to slice into any Goblin fortunate enough to just miss being trampled but not fortunate enough to avoid death altogether.

And not long after Glorfindel hit the ranks, the other horses did too. Arwen followed Glorfindel's example, her face twisted into a grimace that looked unnatural on her normally fair features as she stabbed down into a Goblin archer and practically lifted his dead body into the air on her blade to fling it away. The Lancers behind her crashed through the Goblins that remained spreading out into a line the moment they were off the bridge and mowing down the Goblin forces like a wave washing over a beach, lancers lowered to skewer dozens of Goblins and the hooves of their steeds trampling the rest into the dirt.

Several of the Elves at the rear of the charge were skilfully wielding bows even while being mounted on the horse and moving at speed, stretching their bowstrings taught and firing through and over the ranks of the cavalry before them or off to the side to hit the Goblins beyond the edges of the line.

The charge hit the surprised Goblins hard and they fell back under the vicious onslaught from the well-bred horses of the Elves. But it did not take the too long for the others to get used to what was happening and attempt to retaliate, swarming towards the cavalry units in an attempt to bring them down.

Most of the Goblins severely underestimated the horses and even as they raised their swords they were hit by the running feet and smashed to the ground just like their comrades, but some were more fortunate and leapt forwards, latching onto the horses and grabbing hold to hack at the riders or throw the horse of balance to bring them all crashing to the ground. Some of the archers fired desperately and were able to send a few arrows in to impact on steed or rider, eliciting cries of pain no matter which was the case and bringing others toppling to the ground.

Arwen was one of the Elves that had a Goblin leap forwards and manage to grab hold. Her horse screamed in horse fashion and bucked, trying to throw their unwanted passenger away even as it drew a rusty knife and plunged it towards Arwen. But Arwen swung up her sword and quickly flicked the dagger out of the Goblin's hand, grabbing it with her other hand and plunging it into the Goblin's neck just above the collar-bone. The Goblin screeched and fell off, landing in a sprawled dead heap.

And even as another Goblin sprang towards them, Arwen's horse let loose a furious neigh and swung its head, batting the Goblin with it where it crumpled to the floor in a heap. Evidently the horse was unwilling to be caught out twice like that.

"Good girl," Arwen whispered even as she swerved to follow Glorfindel into the heat of the furious battle going on around her.

There was a reason that Glorfindel and Asfaloth were the best rider and steed in the North and Glorfindel was now performing stunts that no regular mortal could hope to pull off, namely _standing_ on Asfaloth's back and riding him like a surfboard – not that an Elf would know what one of those was – and swerving almost impossible wide outwards to either side to slash through Goblins that any normal horsemen could not reach.

And as another Goblin threw itself as Asfaloth with sword raised, Glorfindel sprang _off_ Asfaloth and grabbed his horse by the back of its neck, _kicked_ the flying Goblin with both feet to slam it away, and then swung around the front of his horse and back into his saddle neatly as if he had been swinging around a pole.

"Now you're just showing off!" Arwen called to him, as she ran over.

"There's a difference between showing off to your forces and pulling moves like that to intimidate the enemy," pointed out Glorfindel. And it was true that the Goblins around were shrinking away from him now, some pushing their way through the others the moment he looked at them, his eyes flashing dangerously. This Elf Lord was a monster, and none of them wanted to deal with him.

"Swing back around!" Glorfindel called. "We'll box in the Goblins we've passed by like Lord Elrond planned it!"

* * *

And the plan did seem to be working. The Goblins that had been lucky enough to avoid the cavalry charge and had been bypassed or were skirting around, were grouping together again and charging towards the bridge once more, only to be met with the furious charge led by Elrond himself, sword raised high and an Elvish battle-cry on his lips. The Elves behind him held their own swords and shields, if they had the latter, ready, and crashed into the Goblin ranks themselves.

"Let me through!" Glóin yelled, determined not to be at the back and unable to get to the action again, and he threw himself into the front of the Goblin forces with a will. His hammer smashed a bow and the Goblin that was holding it in a single stroke and he brought up the end of the handle to block a sword strike from another Goblin, pushing it away and then taking its legs out from underneath it with another sweep, spinning around with the momentum of his swing to bring the hammer up and slam it down on top of another Goblin's head.

Even as another Goblin leapt at him, its hideous face in a brutal snarl, Glóin ducked down and bulled forwards with his shoulder to slam the flying Goblin in the legs with it and tip it over his back to crash rather unelegantly to the floor. Glóin batted away another Goblin as he turned around and then finished off the one on the floor with a swift falling stroke.

Elrond was in the thick of things too, not far away, hacking off the arm of a Goblin that was holding a crudely made shield and then grabbing said shield to swing it like a bat and slam another Goblin in the face. He sprung into the air with a graceful pirouette that was almost akin to some kind of ballet dancer, except that his sword lashed out around him like a single metallic streak that severed three Goblin's heads around him before spinning around to plunge into another.

He turned quickly and blocked another slash from a Goblin and pushed it away, hurling out a fist to crash across its face and knock it to the ground and then duck down as an arrow whooshed past his head and struck another Goblin instead of him, allowing Elrond the chance to grab a fallen Goblin sword and fling it at the Goblin archer that had fired the arrow – the blade spinning through the air like a buzzsaw to bury itself in the Goblin's chest and bringing it crumpling to the ground.

Similar fighting was breaking out all across the valley, with the Elves furiously slashing, batting, striking and kicking, determined to defend their home. The Goblins were slightly cowed under their aggression, but they fought back with a vicious determination of their own, giving as good as they got in a lot of cases, or at least trying to. There was no doubt that the Elves were the better warriors here, but the Goblins definitely had the weight in numbers.

The lines became more scattered as the battle progressed with Elf and Goblin beginning to mingle amongst each other, the fighting leading to hacking in all directions with great vigour.

The ferocity from both sides seemed to increase as the fighting went on, and soon it was difficult for even the Elves on the walls to pick out key individuals. But as the battle progressed on over the next ten minutes and counting, with the fighting not letting up in the slightest over that time, it began to become clear that the Elves were gaining the advantage despite the numbers of the Goblin invaders.

Elrond's strategy seemed to be working and the Goblins at the front of the army found themselves hemmed in on two sides, the horse riders charging in and from side to side from behind while those on foot pushed on from the front, bottling a large number of the Goblins in and gradually decreasing their numbers. Any Goblin that managed to get past the foot warriors were instantly shot down by the defenders on the walls.

But as ever there were casualties on both sides of the equation and the Goblins that were at the back of the army, which the riders had not hemmed in with the others, were hardly taking this lying down and they were charging in from the rear and loosing arrows at the backs of the horses as those wielding swords ran up to try and catch up. Many more of the Elves on their steeds perished from arrows to the back, so Glorfindel and Arwen turned around on their own horses and made for the rest of the army, galloping up and down their line and trying to keep their attention on them rather than the other Elves.

"Begone, foul creatures!" Arwen yelled as she cut across the chest of another Goblin that raised its sword at her but never had the chance to swing it.

"You will not gain our valley!" Glorfindel agreed as he pushed himself forwards, Asfaloth rearing up and slamming two Goblins in the heads with his hooves.

* * *

The course of the battle continued to sway in favour of the Elves and soon the Goblins that had been trapped in by the Elven strategy were all but defeated and the Elves cheered again. But they knew that their victory was far from over for many more Goblins yet remained. But the Elves could see that they were looking uneasy now, even fearful.

Elrond raised his sword as he and the other Elves rejoined with the cavalry. "Do not get too far from the city walls. The battle is far from assured. Draw them in to us rather than go to them."

The Elves formed a line, raising shields where they had them and beating their swords against them in a taunting and jeering manner, meaning to either intimidate the Goblins into a retreat or anger them enough to make them press their own attack. It seemed to work in the latter way, and as the Elven rider drew level with those on foot, the Goblins charged again, hoping to overwhelm them before they got the chance to continue their own charge.

"Lances at the ready!" Arwen called to the remaining horses, and they quickly levelled their long blades in preparation, as the Goblins bore down towards them.

However, there was a sudden shift when the Goblins hesitated right before they reached the Elven lines, suddenly chittering in their own language to each other, their eyes wider than normal and clear expressions of fear on their faces as they looked… not at the Elves… but at the ground.

"What is happening?" Glóin asked, with a frown. "What are they jabbering on about?"

"They sense something," Glorfindel murmured, looking down at the ground in slight bemusement. "Cave dwellers like them are more sensitive to movements in the ground than we but… this is…"

Suddenly Elrond's eyes widened. "No," he breathed. "Elves, back! Get back!"

But even as the words left his mouth, there was a suddenly explosion of dirt and soil several metres away from him, the ground itself upheaving and being thrown into the air, along with several Elves and Goblins alike that had been standing close by, screaming as they sailed wildly through the air. And up through the middle of the sudden explosion came a single, _massive_ shape – one the made even Elrond's ancient heart quiver with a touch of fear.

A huge, blunt snout with an almost flat top that looked like it was used for shovelling dirt aside and a wide toothless mouth that stretched open with a roar of fury, tiny eyes set in the sides of the large head which was situated atop a long, serpentine body with a mottled greyish-green colour that extending upwards from the ground like some kind of giant eel from hell itself.

"WYRM!" yelled Glorfindel in alarm, and the call was taken up by other Elves, which scattered instantly before the creature. For that was what it was – a giant Wyrm, also known as a legless Dragon.

"This cannot be!" Elrond gasped as the creature swung around to face the Elves. As Dragons went, Wyrms were the least powerful of the group, and much preferred spending most of their time underground than doing anything proactive at the surface. But no Wyrm had been seen in this regions for centuries – _millennia_ in fact. So what was this one doing here now?

It must be an ally of the Goblins, but how could the Goblins have come to have such a creature on their side? Had Sauron's influences gotten even further than he thought? Had it reached the Dragons of the mountains themselves?

But he had no time to ponder these things because the Wyrm itself was currently a much more immediate problem. "RETREAT!" Elrond yelled. "BACK TO THE CITY! IT CANNOT CROSS THE CHASM!" right as the Wyrm stretched upwards and exhaled a gigantic plume of fire from its wide jaws that washed over the Elves that were within its immediate reach, bringing agonised screams from Elf and horse alike as they were consumed by the blaze instantly, incinerated in the blast almost instantly.

"NO!" Glorfindel cried at the sight of his brethren going up in flames like that and with a furious snarl on his face, he spurred Asfaloth forwards, the brave horse leaping into action even as the Wyrm swung its head around to extend its blast of fire outwards, burning a wide arc into the Elven forces as they cut and run, fleeing back to Rivendell as fast as they could.

Glorfindel galloped past the Wyrm and cut a line in its side – Wyrms were not as well armoured as the other kinds of Dragon either. But while the Wyrm let out a small screech of pain, the wound was mostly ignored and it swung its head around furiously, firing another plume of fire right after Glorfindel and Asfaloth. The horse immediately veered to the side at an angle that would have made most horses fall over and just pulled out of the way of the blast, which washed over a group of Goblins instead and reduced them to ash.

"It is attacking its own allies," Glorfindel breathed. "It does not care who gets in the crossfire. That is why the Goblins were so afraid."

And it was true, the Goblins _did_ look afraid of the Wyrm and were scattering away from it to give it as wide a berth as they could. Yet at the same time, the heat of battle at the sight of the fleeing Elves was on them and they immediately charged on past the Wyrm, trying to catch up with the terrified Elven forces.

"I'm not retreating from the likes of you!" Glóin yelled, charging towards the Wyrm at the point it emerged from the ground with hammer raised. But the Wyrm didn't appear to even notice him and arced its body over, slamming its head into the ground and burrowing its way downwards with its shovel-head, its body arcing over and tapering into a tail that emerged from its original hole and flipped down into its new ones, Glóin swinging the hammer wildly at it as it disappeared back beneath the ground, only to completely miss.

He was set on by more Goblins moments later and forced to defend himself once more.

Moments later and the Wyrm suddenly exploded out of the ground again at the front of the retreating Elves, catapulting several more of them into the air and blocking off their escape route back to the city, swinging it huge body down like a giant flail to sweep across the ground and batter over a dozen Elves high into the air with yells of despair.

Another gout of fire promptly followed, drawing a line through the Elves and setting the trees and the grass alight.

"Father!" Arwen yelled as she galloped over, helping Elrond up, for he had had to dive out of the way of that fiery plume. "We cannot run! We must find a way to defeat it!"

Elrond grimaced but knew full well she was right – that Wyrm might not be capable of crossing the canyon directly but who knew if it was capable of finding a way around. If there was a path that would allow it to dig through the soil, it would find it. They couldn't dig through rock, and the mountains around the valley were sure to block its path, but it was certainly not a guarantee.

They needed to deal it with it and fast!

"Rally together!" he roared out to the battlefield, waving his sword as his clear voice rang out to try and bring the Elves back under control. "We must destroy that infernal creature! At once!"

The Wyrm seemed to react to his voice – turning around and hissing at him angrily, though whether it could see him or not was debatable considering the nature of its small eyes. But the Elves around it that had not been burnt to death, of which there were still many, quickly obeyed the call of their lord and ceased their panic. Arrows flew through the air and embedded into the Wyrm's body from every direction, but it seemed to ignore them, even the silverthorn ones.

The Wyrm dived forwards again and plunged into the ground, snapping arrows in its body as it did so and bringing its tail up like an enormous whip and slamming it into the ground to crush many more Elves before it vanished underground with the rest of it. Elrond's eyes widened and cried, "Arwen, ride!" leaping onto the horse behind his daughter as he did so. The horse hurled itself forwards with both riders on as the Wyrm erupted out of the ground right beneath the place they had just been, flames already spewing from its maw and shooting into the air like a miniature volcano.

The battle was swiftly becoming a rout for the now disorganised Elves. The Goblins hemmed them in, excited to finally be getting the upper-hand once more and slashing at any Elf that came close, running over their bodies to eagerly get to more, practically salivating in their excitement.

But the Wyrm was by far the biggest factor. It was almost impossible to attack with swords, for it would appear out of the ground in one place and incinerate everything around it, Elf or Goblin alike, before plunging back into the ground and appearing somewhere else. Countless arrows thunked into its body, but it remained undaunted, even when a couple of them thudded right into its head itself.

But there was a pattern to its movements – it was going for Elrond. Everywhere that Arwen and Elrond rode about attacking the Goblin forces, the Wyrm would appear shortly behind them and try to take them out. Perhaps it had recognised Elrond as the leader of the force and was trying to get rid of him, able to follow him somehow even while underground. To that end, Arwen and Elrond rode right into the thick of the Goblins themselves, pelting their way through, so the Wyrm started taking out more of its own allies than the Elves. But then they were just attacked by the Goblin swarm and forced back towards the Elves once again

Glóin was batting away at the Goblins that were now surrounding him, his hammer swinging out wide furiously, daring them to come closer. But as they took up his challenge and he battered one of them hard in the ribs, Glorfindel galloped over and slammed several of them out of the way.

"Master Dwarf, come!" Glorfindel called down to him. "We must try and do something about that vile Wyrm."

"Ack, I knew that things had been going too easy for us," Glóin muttered as Glorfindel hauled him up onto Asfaloth with him, galloping away towards the Elven forces once more as the Wyrm blasted its way out of the ground once again, laying waste to the ground around it and narrowly missing Elrond and Arwen yet again. Asfaloth galloped forward with the speed of the wind and Glorfindel raised his sword, preparing to do something that was probably very reckless as Glóin prepared his axe in a similar fashion.

But, just before they got within range of the Wyrm and it prepared another mouthful of fire, brilliantly blue streaks of light suddenly burst downwards from the sky and slammed into the Wyrm's back, causing it to shriek with an almost unnatural noise that was like a punch to the eardrums of every Elf there.

"Someone need some back-up?" a female voice rang out across the battlefield. **"CRASH BOOM!"**

"What the…" Glorfindel gasped as he drew Asfaloth to a halt and a yellow blur suddenly spiralled down from the air and slammed into the worm, splitting into four as it did so and crashing into the worm's hardened skin. Another powerful shriek of pain came from the Wyrm as its body convulsed and crashed to the ground in a great slump. The four yellow projectiles swept back up and merged back into one, forming what appeared to be a creature that the Elves had never seen before – like a bird and yet not, with yellow armour covering its wings instead of feathers.

"Hi," Sparrowmon waved.

"What is… that?" Glóin asked.

"I don't…" Glorfindel began to answer when suddenly the Wyrm shrieked again and rose back up, bruised but far from dead, swinging its head up to launch a burst of flames up towards the newcomer to the battle. Sparrowmon's jets burst into life and she shot away, curving back upwards into the air and easily avoiding the fire. But suddenly the air was filled with angry screeches as three brown-feathered and _very_ big shapes swept their way downwards from above.

"The Eagles!" cried an Elf joyfully. "The Eagles have come to save us!"

"Just as I knew they would," Glorfindel said, with a smile.

"But what is…" Glóin began.

"We can discuss that later, but right now we have a battle to win," Glorfindel replied as he spurred Asfaloth onwards, barrelling through several more Goblins as he continued to charge towards the Wyrm.

The three Eagles dive-bombed the Wyrm in rapid succession, their talons extending to slash at the back of the Wyrm's head before winging away as the Wyrm span around to snap at the one that had just attacked it, only to be attacked from behind in the same manner by another Eagle. It spun and writhed and flailed its head like a bat, trying to hit its airborne adversaries with increasing frustration. It spat another mouthful of fire, but the Eagles dodged aside, tilting their wings and swooping around to strike once again.

The Goblins were not sure what to make of this new addition to the battle, but the bloodlust was on a lot of them and so they continued attacking the Elves while they were momentarily distracted. But Sparrowmon saw them and growled angrily, sweeping around to side and flying low to shot, **"RANDOM LASER!"** and unleash a barrage of the blue lights that lanced down like a miniature lightning storm.

The Goblins wilted before her onslaught, the aerial Digimon crossing right across the line and blasting down, tearing up the ground with the force of her shots and obliterating the Goblins that passed by beneath her. The Elves stared in wonderment and fear at her as she carved a line straight through the forces of their enemy, creating a gap right across the valley between the two forces.

The Goblins hissed and clamoured, tripping over themselves as they backed away, but if they were surprised by Sparrowmon, they were shocked to the core when a single _massive_ blast of light suddenly cannoned out of the sky and consumed almost fifty of the them in a single explosion of earth and loam. Elf and Goblin alike stared in disbelief as MailBirdramon swung downwards, the metallic avian coming to hover next to Sparrowmon and glare at the Goblin forces.

"I take it that the grimy, scabby ones are the ones we're meant to be attacking then," he stated.

"Well, how'd you ever guess?" Sparrowmon asked, with a roll of her eyes.

"**PLASMA CANNON!"** MailBirdramon responded, raising his head and firing the orange energy bursts from the gun within his beak, peppering the Goblins army with shots that blew like giant grenades across the field. The Goblin archers that were not in a frenzied panic shot upwards at him with their arrows, but MailBirdramon merely narrowed his eyes as they bounced harmlessly off his armour and added, **"NIGHTHAWK!"** to send another huge energy bolt from the socket in his chest that burst down amongst the Goblins and practically disintegrated a large sweep of them where they stood.

"Well don't just stand there gawping!" Sparrowmon cried down to the Elves. "This is your home, isn't it? Keep fighting for it!" And she swung down in a large loop-da-loop and levelled off mere feet from the ground, flying like a streak through the Goblins to slam they aside with her wings before she swung up once again, MailBirdramon looping up around her to blast down more Plasma Cannons into the little enemies.

The Goblins were helpless before the bombardment of the Digimon, and the Elves gained heart from their attack and, understanding that these creatures were on their side, pushed back with a yell of triumph to crash against the Goblin forces once again, swords very much in evidence as they hacked at the panicking Goblins. The Goblin lines broke and scattered around in confusion, hacking at anything that looked like an enemy, and under the aerial assault and the new ferocity from the Elves they were very quickly forced back.

The Wyrm on the other hand was still very much a problem, as it promptly escaped from the Eagles ravaging its body with their talons by crashing underground once again, disappearing from sight with a flick of its tail.

"Height! Gain height!" Gwaihir yelled as all three Eagles immediately powered upwards and with good cause, for the Wyrm burst up again a short distance away, swinging its head around and spraying another huge tongue of flame wildly into the air, seemingly shooting blindly in the hope of hitting one of the Eagles, but the fire fell short of them by quite some distance.

That was when Glorfindel rode up to the creature at last and sprang from the back of Asfaloth, latching onto the Wyrm's body and beginning to clamber up its side, using broken arrows as holds. The Wyrm didn't seem to notice at first, but when it did it promptly began thrashing around, bucking its head to try and throw him off, but he clung firm and plunged his sword into the Wyrm's neck. The Wyrm screeched and sagged down to the ground, where Glóin ran up and suddenly slammed his hammer right into its eye, causing it to squeal yet again.

But it was not done yet, showing the resilience of all Dragon-kind as it surged back up with a wrench strong enough to throw Glorfindel off, and have him roll to the ground next to Glóin. The Wyrm towered above them and they could see the inside of its mouth beginning to light up a bright orange.

But a set of talons suddenly seized Elf and Dwarf as Meneldor swooped in and snatched them out of harm's way with a flare of his wings, right as the Wyrm spat his attack forwards. Gwaihir swept down with powerful flaps, the wind from the displaced air they caused blowing the fire back towards the Wyrm's face, blackening it severely right before his talons lacerated the face itself, putting out one of the Wyrm's small eyes with they're viciously pointed hooks.

The Wyrm flailed in agony and plunged down to the ground once again even as Sparrowmon soared in and cried, **"WING EDGE!"** and sliced clean through the tip of the Wyrm's tail with her blades. But the rest of the Wyrm disappeared under the ground once again.

"This is a troublesome adversary," Gwaihir murmured as they moved skyward again. "He is not staying above the ground long enough for us to finish him off. Yet we have now damaged him severely. We must finish him off before he decides that he has had enough."

"Don't worry," Sparrowmon said, with a scowl. "We're all over it!"

The Wyrm burst out of the ground once again at the other side of the valley, spraying another fiery burst into the air just in case there was anything above it. And there was, but MailBirdramon fell down through the fire anyway, plunging through it without a care, his armour blackened and heating up but otherwise undamaged and crashed into the Wyrm talons first, slamming it to the ground underneath his great weight and pinning it there.

He charged up a Nighthawk to finished the job but the Wyrm withdrew its tail from the ground and slammed it into MailBirdramon's side like a gigantic bullwhip, slamming him in the wing and tossing the metal bird Digimon away with the mighty blow, flipping him to crash onto his back. It was the first time the entire body of the Wyrm was above the ground at once, and it really did look like a giant worm or snake across its entire length.

It swiftly raised itself up to strike down, but MailBirdramon blasted up and hit it full in the face with his attack throwing it backwards to crash against the cliff wall. MailBirdramon then powered his jets and slammed himself back-first along the ground and then curved up back into the air, assessing the damage he had done to the Wyrm.

He had to admit he was impressed by its resilience because it got up again even after that and dug its way back into the ground, but Sparrowmon still swept around and fired a shot down after it. Whether the shot hit or not was a mystery, but once again the Wyrm was out of sight.

"This is annoying," Sparrowmon muttered, right before the Wyrm shot out of the ground beneath her and MailBirdramon and causing them to shoot in opposite directions before it could grab them. And it was promptly dive-bombed yet again by Beleram and Meneldor, the Eagles sweeping in from either side to gouge huge marks in it with their talons. The Wyrm howled its disturbing howl and slammed to the side, knocking Meneldor for a loop before it vanished beneath the ground yet again.

Meneldor regained his flight after a moment of struggling, slightly bruised but otherwise okay.

It was becoming a slight game of cat and mouse now, and now the Wyrm seemed to decide to go back to its original objective – attacking the Elves. The Goblins were being forced back by the now eager Elves when the Wyrm busted up again and its coils slammed out to crash into several more Elves and knock them flying. All five aerial creatures motored after it but the Wyrm plunged underground before they could attack it and re-appeared elsewhere shortly afterwards with the same result.

"Quickly!" Gwaihir cried. "Spread out! We must defend the Elves and defeat that Wyrm before it kills too many more times."

"Once more _is_ too many," Sparrowmon yelled as the Wyrm erupted up again and did just that, killing another five Elves with another burst of flame. And even as she swung around and pelted her lasers at it it arced away, her attack burning a mark in its side but that was about it. Still, they quickly spread out, hoping the Wyrm would be near them when it popped up yet again.

And when it did, Beleram was closest and he flapped around and went for it, latching onto the top of its head with his talons and trying to pierce down towards its brain and slay it, but the flailing Wyrm flung him off yet again and dived back down.

But even as it did, MailBirdramon shot forwards with a massive explosion of speed from his thrusters. And as the Wyrm's tail emerged and began to fall back towards its new hole, MailBirdramon's talons closed around it in a vice-like grip, sinking in for added grip. And MailBirdramon immediately angled himself upwards and forced everything that he had into the jets on his wings.

The Wyrm was pulled up short, its tail held fast in MailBirdramon's grip. It thrashed and pulled, trying to dislodge him, but MailBirdramon had its body held taunt like a rope as he powered himself upwards as much as he could. And though the Wyrm was a hugely powerful creatures, especially when underground, it was rather alarmed to find that the Digimon holding its tail was _pulling _it backwards, _dragging_ it out from the tunnel it was trying to escape into.

"I have it!" MailBirdramon yelled, his jets pulsing as he hauled the Wyrm slowly but surely backwards, drawing more and more of it from the hole with considerable effort on his part. It was a feat of strength no Eagle could accomplish with their wings, but with MailBirdramon's jets forcing him up he could do what none had ever done before and unearth the Wyrm. "Get it now!"

"Attaboy, MailBirdramon!" Sparrowmon cheered, rushing forwards, along with the three Eagles, right as the Wyrm's head was pulled free of the ground. It immediately wriggled wildly and tried to fight MailBirdramon off, swinging its body around to try and let loose another large burst of flame, but a sudden Random Laser from Sparrowmon crashed into its open mouth, stopping that attempt in its tracks.

Then the Eagles were upon in, claws and beaks much in evidence as they crashed down from above and used their combined weight to pin the Wyrm to the ground, MailBirdramon dropping its tail as they did so. They tore into the Wyrm with furious abandon and predatorial skill and Gwaihir, who was closest to its head, slammed his talons down into the top of its head where Beleram had previously scored it, right as Sparrowmon curved and slashed across its neck with another Wing Edge.

That did it.

The Wyrm's brain was pierced by Gwaihir's talon and its spine was severed at the neck by Sparrowmon's cut. It's body continued to writher spasmodically for several moments after it had died, but then it went utterly still – a single enormous corpse – defeated.

The Eagles took a moment to observe what they had done as Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon came to hover at either end of the dead Wyrm.

"Well," Gwaihir chuckled. "It seems that the things I have heard about you Digimon are not exaggerated after all."

"You had doubts?" pouted Sparrowmon. "I am insulted."

"That was incredible," Meneldor said to MailBirdramon. "Dragging a live Wyrm out of its own hole? I don't think even the mighty Thorondor could have done that. And he slashed Morgoth in the face and fought personally against Ancalagon the Black, the most powerful Dragon ever."

"You guys were not so bad yourselves," MailBirdramon chuckled. "That was some impressive flying you were doing there."

"We could say the same," Gwaihir nodded. "But the battle is not over yet."

"Then let's go and make it so that it is," Sparrowmon said, and the five of them took flight once again to stream towards the Goblins once more.

* * *

It wasn't even a contest after that. With the Elves battling hard against the enemies on the ground already, the avian attackers swooping in decided things almost immediately. The Goblins shrank back as the massive forms of the Eagles descended down upon them, ploughing their talons through their force and scooping four or five of them into the air at once while driving others around them into the ground with their wings, flapping up and powering around to fling their bundles back towards the ground before diving downwards again.

And the Digimon were even more destructive, blasting down Random Lasers and Nighthawks into the swathe of the remaining Goblins. Sparrowmon with her incredible speed swept low over the army, singling out the archers that might have had a chance to harm the Eagles in some way with their arrows and blasting them to pieces.

Combined with the Elven assault at their front and the defeat of the Wyrm, it was too much for the Goblins and they broke their lines and ran, turning to flee in terror and scamper back the way they had come. The Elves pulled to a stop and began their celebratory cheers, watching as the pitiful remainder of the Goblin force dashed for cover, pursued by their aerial allies, the Eagles swooping down and seizing foes with unerring speed and precision.

There were only about fifty Goblins left out of the swarm of hundreds by the time they reached the treeline. MailBirdramon took careful aim with his Nighthawk, preparing to try and obliterate the rest of them in one go, when Sparrowmon's Random Laser hit him in the side lightly to knock the thought from his mind.

"Sparrowmon?" MailBirdramon blinked. "Did you just shoot me _again?!"_

"Don't you remember what Beleram said earlier?" Sparrowmon lectured him like he was a five-year-old child. "These Elves don't like it when trees get destroyed. You were about to blow up a bunch of them. I had to step in."

"Yes, fair enough, but still, must you _shoot_ me to get my attention?" MailBirdramon grumbled. "That's the second time in two days."

"Well, it works, doesn't it?" Sparrowmon grinned. "Relax, Macho-Bird. You can take it."

"Macho-Bird?" MailBirdramon spluttered.

"Well, you two," Gwaihir said as he cruised overhead. "I believe that we have won the day."

"Yep," Sparrowmon nodded. "Those guys didn't know what hit them."

"I believe that might be quite literal since they seemed quite surprised to see creatures like you attacking them," Gwaihir chuckled. "But nevertheless, now the battle is over and the day is ours. Come. Let us meet with the leader of the Elves. I am sure that Lord Elrond would like to thank you in person."

And he soared off towards the line of Elves down below, followed by the others. The two Digimon saw four figures step out from the main throng, two of them leading white horses with them as they did so. Three of them were clearly Elves, one female in a long robe, one male in silver armour with golden hair, one male in blue and green armour with dark hair… and the last figure didn't look anything like an Elf, with his shorter, stockier form and his long reddish-brown beard. Everyone else in the glad was clean-shaven (actually Elves didn't even grow facial hair).

Gwaihir settled on the ground in front of these figures, towering above them, but they did not show any fear at his size.

"Well met, Windlord Gwaihir," Elrond said as he reclined his head, recognised the Eagle on sight. "Your timing in your arrival was exceptional."

"Well met to you too, Lord Elrond," Gwaihir reclined his own head in response. "Though I do wish that our meeting had been under… more peaceful circumstances."

"As do I. But these are difficult times as I'm sure you know. I was not expecting an attack of this magnitude so early, and I thank Eru that one of your kind was there to observe the situation and report back to you. I fear that the battle would have been a lot more destructive to our side had you and your kind not been here to defeat that Wyrm."

"We could have beaten it," Glóin muttered.

"Perhaps, but at a far greater cost," Glorfindel nodded. "And whilst I too am grateful for your help, Lord Gwaihir… I have to say I am rather dumbfounded at some of your present company. In all the years I have lived on this Middle Earth… I've never encountered or even heard tell of creatures like your two new friends," he looked up to Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon, who were still hovering above.

"We're not 'creatures,'" Sparrowmon replied. "We're monsters."

"Not the best way of introducing ourselves," MailBirdramon coughed.

"Yes, I thought that you would say something like that," Gwaihir laughed. "Suffice to say my Eagles were similarly surprised when they encountered them for the first time yesterday too. But I can assure you that they are friendly, though perhaps their destruction of the Goblins to aid you already told you that. The yellow one is called Sparrowmon, and the larger blue one is named MailBirdramon."

"Nice to meet you," Sparrowmon grinned as she and MailBirdramon lowered themselves down, the latter settling on the ground and eyeing the Elves with his beady, yellow eyes. Some of them looked uneasy under his gaze. After all, MailBirdramon was quite intimidating.

"And you," Elrond nodded to them. "And if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that the two of you were Digimon. Am I right?"

Everyone stared at Elrond in slight disbelief.

"You know about us?" MailBirdramon asked.

"You know about them?" Arwen echoed.

"Indeed," Elrond nodded, "though I have never seen one until today. However, a few days ago, the Lady Galadriel's voice echoed within my mind."

"Grandmother?" asked Arwen, for the Lady Galadriel was indeed Arwen's grandmother on her mother's side of the family.

"Yes," Elrond nodded. "She wished to tell me of a group of creatures that had arrived within our world from beyond the Halls of Eru Ilúvatar himself. She claimed that these beings were from an entirely different universe, but that they had been summoned to our own by Eru to provide help for us in the fight against Sauron, with the aid of a force of power from their own universe known as, I believe, the Code Crown."

"But that's impossible, surely," Glorfindel gasped, as the Elves began muttering amongst themselves.

"Did you get hit on the head by a shield during that battle, Elf?" Glóin asked.

"Are you sure, Father?" Arwen asked with eyes wide. That sounds so…"

"Odd?" asked Elrond. "I must admit, the mere idea sounded so ludicrous that I did take it with a pinch of salt, even when it came from the mouth of the Lady of the Golden Wood. But after seeing what I saw the two of you… Digimon… accomplish on the field of battle today, I must admit I find my doubts severely reduced. And I did sense a strange shift in the fabric of the world two days ago."

"As did I," Glorfindel's eyes widened. "It was something I was going to talk to you about. You're saying it was the arrival of these Digimon?"

"Most likely," Elrond nodded.

"Well, we did arrive in this world two days ago," MailBirdramon said. "This stuff about us coming from another universe is all true. But this stuff about being summoned by someone is new to us. The Code Crown was not acting alone in bringing us here, it would seem."

"I don't know whether that's a relief or not," Sparrowmon murmured. "But at least we don't have to go through many of the long and complicated explanations again. I hate those."

"Excuse me while I go and question everything I know about the world," Glóin muttered. "This sounds absolutely ridiculous to me."

"And yet, Master Dwarf, it is the truth," nodded Elrond. "And I thank you Digimon greatly for your help on the field of battle today. I have never seen anything that can compare to those strange powers you displayed out there. You have the gratitude of everyone in Rivendell today."

"The price of the battle was high," Glorfindel remarked, turning back to look at the field, covered in the bodies of Elf and Goblin, charred in many place and with the corpse of the Wyrm stretched out not far away. "But it would likely have been higher were it not for your help."

"Happy to do it," Sparrowmon said fiercely. "After all, we can't turn our backs on those who need help or are being oppressed."

"It's true," Gwaihir laughed. "They were insistent on coming with us to the battle. I got the feeling nothing could sway them."

"It's been practically ingrained into us, that's why," MailBirdramon chuckled.

"I invite you all to return to Rivendell with us and share in our victory," Elrond extended his hand upwards towards Sparrowmon, and the yellow Digimon floated downwards and shook it firmly. "And we can discuss together what the future shall hold. I will not presume that you are willing to help us in our war against the Dark Lord Sauron…"

"Oh, presume away," Sparrowmon said immediately. "You're in the middle of a war with a Dark Lord that's trying to take over. We'll do whatever we can to fight him off."

"Just like that?" Arwen asked. "No time to think about it? No time to weigh the risks?"

"Did you not hear what we were just talking about?" Sparrowmon asked her. "We _can't_ turn our backs. We _won't_. We Digimon are here to fight with you no matter what lies ahead."

Glóin laughed. "I think that I like them," he said.

* * *

And that concludes things, hehe. Hope you liked the big battle sequences and know that the Wyrm that appeared in this chapter is only the first of many things that prove to be a challenge for the Digimon to face, and most of the others in the future will be even more tough to take on that this one was. Hehehe. The fight is just beginning.

Bye bye for now.

* * *

Next time…

With Gollum in the lead and the three Monitamon in tow, Frodo and Sam are finally on the right track towards getting out of the labyrinth of Emyn Muil. But up ahead is another large barrier preventing them from getting to Mordor – the enormous swamp. And there is certainly a lot more waiting for them in there than they might think.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 30 : The Dead Marshes**


	30. The Dead Marshes

Hello again everybody, and here I am again with the next update – the fifth one so far this month and it hasn't even been two whole weeks yet. I think that I am definitely on track for meeting my designated ten for this month, and hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in a little more. And this marks the sixtieth chapter that I have written since I posted the final one of Secret of the 327th, so I am feeling pretty pleased with myself even if I am still only thirty chapters in to either story. But don't worry, I shall persevere. Hehe. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 30:- The Dead Marshes**

* * *

Evening was beginning to draw on and the Sun was moving on, preparing for another night of rest as it sought to sink down and bring February 28th to a close. It had seen many interesting things over the course of the day, not least the massive battle at Rivendell up in the North.

But down in the South, there were still a few newcomers to Middle Earth that had… really yet to do much of anything since they'd even got to this place, and it had now been almost three days. Or at least two and half. That was a long period of inactivity for mostly anyone to go through, but these three small Digimon in particular had yet to move around much more than a few metres since all of this had begun.

They were simply too afraid to.

They couldn't really be blamed to be honest. As Xros Heart members went, ChibiKamemon, Lunamon and Dondokomon were not particularly brave.

Dondokomon had barely taken part in any of the actual battling, preferring to cheer the others on from the sidelines and beat on the drum that made up his own head to spur them on. He was quite bold when there were no enemies around, but when one showed up, he had always been one of the first to hide. Perhaps his biggest contribution to Xros Heart's efforts had been through the DigiXros with several others to form GreatestCutemon to help fight off Gravimon's army.

Admittedly his drum had actually been quite a destructive force in that form, producing sound-waves that combined with Cutemon's own screeching sound-waves to create a concussive, continuous blast that had destroyed a very large portion of Gravimon's grunts.

But in his own natural form? Yeah… he'd really done nothing. Even in the final battle against Bagramon before _everyone_ had DigiXrosed together to form Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode, he had been the only one of the entire army that hadn't take an active role, choosing instead to stand with the humans and cheer for Taiki as he launched his scheme to try and revive the dead Shoutmon.

Still, he was a loyal member, not least because Taiki had stood by him when he had been accused of breaking a priceless statue in the Heaven Zone and therefore been arrested by the police. Even though all the evidence suggested it had been Dondokomon and Taiki had not actually seen Dondokomon _not_ do it, he had still trusted in his word, even though it had led to him being arrested as well and even put down for execution before the real perpetrator – a Cupimon that had knocked it over by accident and been too scared to admit it – had owned up.

That act from Taiki and Shoutmon had forever secured the little drum's loyalty, though he had not really had the chance to do much with it even after that time.

Lunamon wasn't even a true member of Xros Heart, just as Spadamon wasn't. They were honorary members certainly, but they preferred to live their own lives away from the Xros Heart army, but would drop by on occasion to see how they were doing. It could be call bad luck that the two of them were even there when the Code Crown had decided to send everyone to this place, but as honorary members it had chosen to take them along as well.

But Lunamon had never been involved in a battle before. Not directly anyway, because Superior Mode doesn't count in that respect considering the sheer amount of Digimon that made up its form. She had seen battles involving Xros Heart and Blue Flare take place, but she had always been an observer only. And a scared observer at that, just running away and trying to keep her life intact.

She was _not_ a fighter. She had been helpless to stop the Bagra Army or Blue Flare from destroying her original home in the Disc Zone, and she had almost gotten herself killed trying to rescue an empty box of DigiNoir that Shoutmon had given to her when it was full and she was still hungry. And then later on she had been a mind-slave of Olegmon's spell that just had to be rescued by Xros Heart and then stayed behind as they continued on with the fight.

Nevertheless, she liked everyone in Xros Heart very much – she'd gotten to know them all over the years well, except for the big and silent ones that didn't really talk to anyone like Cyberdramon and Golemon, but even they had always been very gentle with her. It seemed impossible for anyone with a decent heart not to like the little bunny Digimon.

Not to mention she had quite a bit of hero-worship for Shoutmon himself, and had done ever since that day where he'd been kind enough to give her his own food. He was her idol and she definitely looked up to him in many ways and never hesitated to show it. Some people had thought that she might have had a slight crush on him, but that wasn't really true. It was more like… the way a small boy reveres his favourite footballer. And Shoutmon himself had come to see her as something like a niece – not quite a daughter but not quite a sister either.

As to ChibiKamemon, he was probably the one out of the three that could be considered the bravest. He had originally been a scared little turtle like Lunamon was a scared little bunny, but at Shoutmon's words of encouragement to him, he had been able to put himself into a dangerous situation and save the group from being drowned by an Octomon that had got the better of them within the Island Zone.

Ever since then he had striven to take the three things that Shoutmon had told him someone needed in order to become strong – courage, guts and friends.

He certainly had friends and many of them. Shoutmon was always telling him and everyone else how true strength came from the bonds of friendship that they had with one another and how individual strength always paled when it came to working as a unit and a team. Bagramon had been individually stronger than any of them and yet the bonds of friendship had still managed to defeat him in the end.

But right now, the only friends he had were these two Digimon, and they were just as scared as he was at the moment. And they really couldn't be blamed. They were on a small piece of soggy land in the middle of a giant marsh several miles wide and stretching practically as far as they could see in every direction, and the water around them was filled with dead bodies of humans and other creatures, each one of which appeared to be marked by a little flicker of flame that did not appear to be burning anything. Not to mention the mist made it a little difficult to see in most any direction, and ChibiKamemon could still swear blind that when he had looked at that human corpse yesterday it had opened its eyes.

But now the three of them had been here for almost three whole days. They were getting ravenously hungry, and the things that they kept picturing as happening, like the dead bodies surging up from the water and coming after them, had yet to happen. The water had been entirely still and undisturbed for the entire time they had been there.

Still, they had good reason to be so nervous, particularly ChibiKamemon and Dondokomon. There had been one single experience in their pasts that had been extremely traumatic for both of them – one they still had nightmares about on occasion, and that had been when they had entered NeoVamdemon's Vampire Land – the second Land of the Seven Death Generals they needed to beat in order to reach Bagramon.

While they had been there, they had encountered a set of three LadyDevimon that had burst up from out of the ground in the middle of a graveyard like three terrible zombies and attacked them. And they had proven themselves to be immortal, remaining totally unaffected by the attacks that Shoutmon and Sparrowmon had thrown at them, all the damages and burns they sustained healing over near instantly.

For Digimon that were not particularly brave anyway, that had been quite the harrowing experience, and it was part of the reason why the two of them were so afraid now. They kept picturing that LadyDevimon smashing her way out of the ground again and again in their minds and they were sure that if they drew attention to themselves these bodies were going to do the same thing and burst up in a fountain of spray and come after them with groping hands and leering faces.

Lunamon, on the other hand, was just plain scared.

They had slept on occasion while they were here, huddled together with two of them passing into sleep for a while, while the third member kept watch for incoming zombies. The sleep had never been peaceful, and they had often woke up after only a few minutes trying not to scream – the dead bodies invading their dreams in a way that they had yet to do in reality. It was enough to keep all three of them rooted to the same spot in terror, even after almost two and a half days.

But their stomachs just continued to protest at the lack of sustenance. Lunamon tried to eat some of the long tufts of dry grass that was growing all over the place in the hopes that it would provide her with some kind of nutrition, but it tasted foul and refused to settle in her stomach, so she left off on that attempt pretty quickly. Nothing good was going to come of eating the plants in a landscape such as this anyway.

Eventually though, ChibiKamemon's stomach growled too loudly and he was surely that the dead bodies around in the water could hear it from beneath the surface. He screwed his eyes shut, wishing that he had more courage. Why couldn't he be like Shoutmon, who never seemed to have fear of anything? He'd tried emulating him in the past, but it seemed that he just wasn't courageous material.

But then, even as he thought that, another memory flashed into his head, of a time after Shoutmon had become King.

* * *

It was during the time that he was establishing his reign – meeting the various Digimon of the Digital World and forming alliances and trust with them, as well as promising to do what he could for everyone who sought a life of peace and freedom. He remembered a few tiny little Digimon – a Motimon being amongst their number – holding him in awe and the Motimon had asked him, "Can I grow up to be fearless like you?"

"Fearless?" Shoutmon had asked, with a chuckle. "Oh I assure you that I'm not fearless. Not entirely. There have been plenty of times when I've been scared – scared that I wouldn't make it out of a situation intact, scared that I'll lose one of my precious friends, scared that I'd fail in my task to become the Digimon King. Most of the time I was just angry and determined, yeah, but that doesn't mean there wasn't times when I _wasn't_ scared."

"But then if you were scared then how did you stand up to the Bagra Army?" the Motimon had asked.

"Well, for one thing I had my friends with me at all times," Shoutmon grinned. "And when I was with them, their presence often chased the scared in me away almost as soon as it began, because I knew as long as our hearts shone with the same determination, we would always overcome, no matter what odds were thrown against her. Through them, my soul ignited and banished the scared away. There weren't many times when my friends saw a scared expression on my face, but that doesn't mean I wasn't."

"Well, I get scared by my own shadow sometimes," the Motimon admitted shyly. "I'm not courageous like you."

"Rubbish," Shoutmon grinned. "Courage isn't the same as having no fear. Courage is being afraid and pushing forward anyway. Do you stop going about in the daytime because you're worried that you might see your shadow? Obviously not. Courage is overcoming any fear that you have. And that's what I did, because I also had guts. Guts is what gives you the ability to act on your courage, to throw yourself into a dangerous situation without hesitation, even knowing there's the possibility that you might lose.

"And as I said, I had my friends behind me, each of which had courage and guts themselves. And we always had each other. Put those three in a combination together and you'll never go wrong. Because of those three things, there was not one time that I ever faltered due to any fear I may have had, nor even showed it. There was no need to show it. Even when I was throwing myself at Bagramon alone, I knew my friends would succeed in the end, which is why I was not afraid to die."

* * *

ChibiKamemon remembered those words well now and he swallowed. "Courage," he said aloud, drawing the attention of the other two incredibly tired and very afraid Digimon. "It means being afraid and pushing forwards anyway. That's what we have to do."

"Huh?" Dondokomon asked. "You want to leave and go out there into the swamp? Are you mad?"

"Look, we're just going to starve to death if we stay here," ChibiKamemon reasoned. "We need to find a way of getting out of here. Staying here forever isn't going to make us survive even if those bodies aren't attacking us. We've got to have courage. Come on, we can do this. We have to try and get out of here. Somehow."

Lunamon shuddered and reclined inwardly on itself. "But what if they come after us," she whimpered as ChibiKamemon pushed himself to his feet, a more determined expression crossing his little, green face.

"Then we run," ChibiKamemon turned and reached a hand down to both of them. "We'll have a better chance of surviving by moving than staying here forever, no matter which way you look at it. Come on. We've got to have courage and act now."

Dondokomon and Lunamon looked at each other for a moment, both swallowing in nervousness as they considered ChibiKamemon's words. They were indeed hungry. And very thirsty too. None of them dared to disturb the water with the bodies resting in them, and _drinking_ from it was out of the question.

"Well…" Lunamon murmured. "It is… it is what Shoutmon would do…"

"I guess sitting around here's not going to do us any good really," Dondokomon agreed. "But… I'm still scared."

"Then be scared. But have courage too," ChibiKamemon said. "We can do this. If we don't, then we'll probably die here even if the bodies don't come and get us."

There was another moment's hesitation on the part of the other two before they reached up with drumstick and hand alike to grasp ChibiKamemon's and let him pull them up to their feet. ChibiKamemon nodded to them and said, "So, which way do you think we should go first?"

"Um…" Lunamon looked around her, shuddering. "Maybe we should try going that way," she said, pointing towards the West. "That way looks like there's the best path through the bog. But… no way looks really safe."

"It doesn't matter which way we go at this point, does it?" Dondokomon asked. "We need to get to the edge of this place and it looks as far away in any direction we look as any other to me." He reached up to bash his head instinctively to express his worry but then remembered he didn't want any loud noises and so resisted.

"Then… then let's try," ChibiKamemon nodded nervously, heading off in the direction that Lunamon had pointed because she was quite right. It did look like the best path across here without having to get wet.

ChibiKamemon reflected for a moment how ironic it was that he, a turtle Digimon, did not at this moment want to get into the water. But no turtle Digimon with a brain would want to get into the water of this marshland.

So, the group moved away at long last, each of them moving practically on tip-toe, trying to make as absolutely little noise as possible as they treaded over the soggy grass that made up the small amounts of land that let through the marshes. They were half afraid their footsteps would make the bodies all around them start noticing them, sensing the through vibrations in the ground or something. Paranoid as that may have sounded, none of them were prepared to risk it.

As the land around them grew thinner, with the water closing in on either side of them the form the thin passageway between the two wider expanses of grass, ChibiKamemon could help but flinch to the side as he saw a pale, ghostly face lying just beneath the water's surface, hair sticking up like old plants rather than hair and eyes closed. There was no sign of decomposition or anything like that. The body was just… there…

And it wasn't the only one. Now that they'd drawn nearer the water, ChibiKamemon could see that there were more of them stretching away from the shoreline but all floating seemingly just under the surface and none of them breaking it in any place. And that was just the layer on top – who knew if there were more bodies underneath the ones near the surface. Who knew how many of them were in this swamp altogether. Possibly thousands.

Which was not exactly the image that ChibiKamemon wanted in his mind as he tried to force himself to move onwards. The little turtle swallowed and slowly stepped onwards resisting the urge to close his eyes and start praying to the Code Crown for his safety or something like that. He took each tentative step forwards as if he were on some kind of balance beam, and the others slowly followed him.

Lunamon whimpered and covered her eyes, refusing to move for several moments before she opened them again and realised that nothing had happened and ChibiKamemon was already at a wider piece of land, so she stepped gingerly onwards, placing each foot with the utmost care.

And as for Dondokomon – well, he was not exactly built for quietness and stealth. His legs were situated on the bottom of his flat body in such a way that it made placing one foot in front of the other almost impossible for him. He had to turn side-on and inch his way across the platform of land, where the other two were waiting for him.

Even this was not an especially easy thing for the drum to accomplish – edging along sideways in such a fashion with such a rotund body was giving him balance problems, which were particularly noticeable when he suddenly tipped over backwards, flailing his drumsticks wildly and yelling as he desperately tried to heave his weight forwards to stop him from plunging into the stagnant looking water.

ChibiKamemon moved without thinking and dashed back across the thin land strip to grab Dondokomon moments before he tipped completely and heaved him upright, but as he did so, ChibiKamemon ended up putting one of his feet into the water. He yelped as he felt the water over his toes; something that he had never done before in his life; and he quickly bolted back the way he had come, Dondokomon hop-skipping along awkwardly beside him and all three Digimon throwing themselves to the ground to look wildly around them.

Nothing happened.

The corpses stayed put.

The lights continued to flicker.

Everything else remained still.

"I don't know if we can do this," Lunamon murmured slightly, burying her face in her little hands.

"We have to," ChibiKamemon replied, pushing himself up shakily. "Besides… what could they do right? I mean, even if they really did come after us, they're still just humans and stuff. We could take them. Humans are no match for Digimon."

"Really? Because I distinctly remember Shoutmon telling me about the one time that Taiki flipped a Divermon on his back and I remember _seeing_ Zenjirou battling against some powerful opponents with the Star Sword," Dondokomon stated.

"I know. I was just saying those things so that you guys would feel safer but then you had to go and point that out," ChibiKamemon muttered dryly.

"Oh," Dondokomon murmured. "Sorry."

"Never mind. But still, I'm sure we could take them. Hopefully," he muttered. "But perhaps we should walk with Dondokomon in the middle from now on. Lunamon and I can help your support yourself on thinner ground."

"Is that a fat joke?" Dondokomon grumbled.

"You're a drum. You don't have fat."

Lunamon giggled. ChibiKamemon immediately pointed at her and said, "Yes, see. That's what we can do. We'll tell jokes and stuff, try and keep our spirits up. Yes, that's what will work. Those corpse thingies are just dead bodies. Taiki said that's what happens to humans when they die anyway. They just stay there instead of turning into data like a Digimon does, but they're still dead. What are they going to do?"

"I suppose," Dondokomon muttered, beating on the drum on top of his head loudly a couple of times in a show of bravado. The swamp around them completely failed to be suddenly full of lurching zombies. Everything stayed as still as before. "Ha! They've got nothing against us, right? We were afraid for nothing."

"I know right?" ChibiKamemon grinned as he marched off with more of a spring in his step. "And that time I thought the corpse's eyes open was probably just a trick of the light. Or it could have just happened randomly. I mean who knows what weird stuff happens to a body after its dead, right? I mean Digimon don't leave bodies so we don't know anything about them other than the fact they can't get up and hurt us."

"Then we can get out of here easy enough, can't we?" Lunamon perked up a little as she hurried along after the other two marching Digimon.

"Yeah, sure we can," ChibiKamemon grinned, deciding not to mention the weird little fires all over the place and about how they didn't seem to burn things and poofed back into life when he put them out. "It's just a plain old bog with some rather disturbing things lying around in the water. As long as we stay out of the water ourselves, I'm sure we'll be absolutely fine."

"Shall I play a marching tune" Dondokomon asked.

"Why not?" ChibiKamemon laughed. "That'll set the mood right, won't it?"

Dondokomon began to rhythmically beat his drumsticks on the top of his head and laughed as he started swinging his legs up and down like a professional soldier on the march, with ChibiKamemon and Lunamon following his example, trying to banish away the fear that actually remained in all three of them by keeping their spirits up.

* * *

And it seemed to work. They traversed through the bog, searching for dry land passes that could take them through the waters without having to get in them, for that was something ChibiKamemon was still not willing to do because he had no idea what these bodies had died from and would rather not suffer a similar fate. They occasionally had to stop and backtrack so that they could find a different path when they found that there wasn't any way to pass over the water, but for the most part they seemed to be making some form of progress. A long, winding progress, but progress none the less.

They laughed and joked and did their best to totally ignore all of the lights and the bodies around them with vary degrees of success depending on how much of them they could see at the time. But for the most part they kept their spirits high and Dondokomon's songs definitely helped in that regard, for he kept chanting out silly tunes that he'd learned in the Green Zone with all the other Dondokomon that kept them in step and laughing most of the while. As well as a song that Akari had once taught him when they had had some time off, rare as those times were:-

"…The animals went in four by four, hurrah! Hurrah!  
…The animals went in four by four, hurrah! Hurrah!  
…The animals went in four by four,  
The great hippopotamus stuck in the door,  
And they all went into the ark, for to get out of the rain!"

"I really don't understand this one at all, but I like it," Lunamon laughed. "What is an ark anyway?"

"I dunno. What's a hippotamapopus," ChibiKamemon snickered.

"It's hippopotamus," Dondokomon grinned. "Trust me, it took be a few goes to get that one as well. Hehe. But I don't understand it at all either, but now you've interrupted me. Where was I? Oh, yes, four. Now… the animals went in five by five, hurrah! Hurr…

"AAAAHHHH!"

Both Dondokomon and ChibiKamemon suddenly whirled around at Lunamon scream, just in time to determine that Lunamon had apparently lost her footing when she had put her foot in a dip in the ground that she hadn't seen due to the clump of grass covering it. The result was that she was rather violently tipped forwards and in a mad throe to regain her balance she ended up setting it completely off-kilter and fell to side, splashing face-first down into the water and vanishing beneath the surface.

"Lunamon!" Dondokomon cried, as he and ChibiKamemon ran towards the spot where she had been standing – he could see her floundering just beneath the surface and sinking further downwards at a slow but steady pace, between the floating faces of two of the eerie looking corpses. "ChibiKamemon do something!"

"I'm on it!" ChibiKamemon replied and prepared to jump in after her, when both be and Dondokomon leapt back with a startled scream – _both_ of the corpses had just opened their eyes, revealing white, glassy orbs beneath their lids. The drum and the turtle trembled on the shore, staring at them in absolutely mind-numbing terror.

The corpses made no further moves or motions of any kind. They just seemed to float there with their eyes open, and down below, they could see Lunamon thrashing violently beneath the water, struggling with all her might to get back up, but it was as if no matter how hard she tried she would only sink deeper.

"Ch-ch-ch-ChibiK-k-kamemon… you have to do something…I can't swim!" Dondokomon cried.

But ChibiKamemon was frozen to the spot with fear, the sightless eyes of the two corpses almost seeming to gaze deep into his own eyes even though they made absolutely no move and didn't even roll to look at him. His muscles seemed to have totally tensed up, his breathing had become ragged, and his mind seemed to have gone totally blank. He could think of nothing but his own fear, and all thoughts of bravado seemed to have fled from him.

"ChibiKamemon!" Dondokomon cried, prancing up and down on the spot! "Do something! Do something!"

"Eguh… wmme…ngh," ChibiKamemon only managed to stutter, staring at the corpses. Dondokomon saw Lunamon sinking even deeper down – he had not even thought that the water was that deep so close to the edges – and as he watched her struggles began to wane and become more feeble, her head rolling back until her eyes looked almost as sightless as those of the corpses as he began to lose sight of her in the darkness.

They had to do something quickly! But Dondokomon could not help. Only ChibiKamemon could and he had frozen to the spot.

But the corpses were making no further moves other than to stare blankly… so…

"Sorry, mate!" Dondokomon cried, and he suddenly leapt behind ChibiKamemon and swiped his drumsticks down onto the back of his shell, like it was itself a drum. ChibiKamemon yelled in horror as he was tossed forwards and he too plunged into the water between the bodies.

The moment ChibiKamemon's eyes entered the water, everything seemed to change, and the little turtle's heart almost stopped dead in its tracks at the sight. While from above the only thing that could be seen was Lunamon struggling against the water, from _within_… it was a whole different story.

There were glowing phantom-like wisps everywhere, making the water practically shine with its ethereal light, but it was far from a pleasant line. The corpses on either side of ChibiKamemon still didn't move but the wisps all around them had taken on the shapes and faces of the bodies themselves… but gone _horribly_ wrong. Each of them was pale, twisted and contorted, their mouths agape and looking too big for their faces and their misshapen teeth bared in an eternal grimace. Their eyes were blank and sightless and their skin, if you could call it skin on a phantom-like thing like them – was blotted and stretched, making them horribly gaunt and practically disfigured.

It was as if while the dead bodies had remained in the same state that they had been in when they had died, the souls of the bodies had continued to age and decompose properly until the ghostly zombies that ChibiKamemon was seeing around him were brought into reality.

The ghost-things made no sound as they moved, which just made them even more eerie, and they were all moving towards Lunamon with their arms outstretched, drifting slowly in around her and apparently drawing her down towards the bottom without actually touching her.

It was a thousand times worse down below than it was from up above.

ChibiKamemon wanted nothing more than to leap out of that water right then and there and go and hide in the nearest clump of grass and he almost did just that, especially when the phantoms, who had all been engrossed with Lunamon up until that point, noticed his presence and looked up towards him, their heads and face twisting around and horrifyingly unnatural angles.

But the only thing that really stopped ChibiKamemon was the sudden shock of being plunged into the water had gotten the adrenaline going a little and the look on Lunamon's face as she slowly succumbed to lack of air and possibly some kind of strange effect that the phantoms were having on her. ChibiKamemon was deathly afraid, but he yelled in his head once again, _Courage is being afraid and pushing forward anyway._

And so… without really thinking… he charged downwards, kicking his small legs frantically as he shot a thin stream of ice in the shape of an arrow from his mouth. The ice arrow lanced down and ploughed through the ghostly forms with seemingly little effect other than to part the glowing mist that made up their composition briefly, before it flowed back into place once again. But nevertheless it seemed to startle the phantoms for a moment and they moved back, especially when ChibiKamemon waved a hand and the ice arrow began to swirl around under his guidance, whipping round and round Lunamon and dispersing any ghostly limb that seemed to reach out towards her.

Despite the lack of damage to them the phantom's seemed to be wary, but it was difficult to tell because their hideous faces never changed expression once. But as they drew themselves back that was all that ChibiKamemon needed to surge down and grab Lunamon, hauling her back to the surface while his arrow whipped around in an uncontrolled frenzy behind him.

The phantoms made no sound but when they saw what was happening they all whooshed up after the pair of Digimon, ignoring the ice arrow now as they pursued. ChibiKamemon saw them coming and spurred himself up even faster, heaving Lunamon up and out of the water like a wet towel to dump her onto the bank besides the prancing Dondokomon, before scrabbling out and up the bank himself, the ghostly hands inches from his tail as he did so.

ChibiKamemon whipped around to stare with renewed terror into the water, expecting to see the faces peering up at him, but other than the ripples from his swift exit there was nothing. But that did not convince him that they were safe, especially since the eyes of the corpses were still open.

Dondokomon was beating lightly on Lunamon's back with his drumsticks, helping the barely conscious little rabbit to cough up the copious amounts of water in her lungs. As Lunamon spat another mouthful out and groaned, her head suddenly shot up, eyes wide with horror as the images of what had been happening down there suddenly filled her clearer mind again and she screamed. ChibiKamemon screamed as well and they both sprang up and hared away, Dondokomon following after them rapidly as the eyes of the corpses slowly closed.

The three of them ran and ran and ran for quite some time, panic taking over all three of them, including the one that hadn't even got in the water. They almost slipped and fell in again many times but miraculously they were able to stay on land, before eventually ChibiKamemon tripped up on a grassy knoll and huddled there, shivering violently. Lunamon and Dondokomon threw themselves down on either side of him and they all drew close together, more scared now than they had been at any point during their time here so far.

"What happened back there?" Dondokomon demanded.

"You don't want to know! You don't want to know!" ChibiKamemon insisted.

"I'm never going to be able to get that out of my head!" Lunamon whimpered. "Help us! Somebody PLEASE! HELP US!"

* * *

It had been just over a day now since the little group that was now making their way through the rocks of Emyn Muil had come together, made up of three Digimon who all looked exactly the same, two Hobbits, and the gangly creature that the others couldn't even begin to guess at what to call him other than just Gollum. They had been traversing over the rocks and boulders, around large cliff corners and through cavernous passes at speed, with Gollum in the lead, bounding along on all fours like some kind of crossbreed between a rabbit and a frog, bow-legged but nimble at the same time.

Gollum had to pause every now and then for the two Hobbits to keep up with him, and whenever he went out of sight, Sam yelled at him to come back, not trusting him to slip away at the first opportunity to get back to hunting them. He had good reason not to trust Gollum. The guy had been following them since the Mines of Moria seeking to get the Ring back and now he had apparently turned to serving the person who owned it. That just didn't sit right in Sam's mind. He was sure that Gollum was just using this as an opportunity to get close so that he could strike when they let their guard down.

Well, that wasn't going to happen if Samwise, son of Hamfast, had anything to say about it.

But he couldn't deny that they did need some help getting out of this place and right now if Gollum could get them back on the road then so be it.

They had, so far, spent one night in Gollum's company, and most of the day. Sam had not slept at all during that night, determined to keep an eye on their guest and to be honest Frodo had not managed to get much sleep either. There were too many questions in both of their heads for that, though Gollum had not tried anything untoward during the night – a fact that actually surprised both of them. Even Frodo had been pretty sure that his desire for the Ring would make him go back on his word at the first opportunity.

Nothing like that had happened yet, but that didn't mean either of them were not going to be wary of him.

But the other three members of their group, on the other hand, were getting equal levels of interest and wariness from both of the Hobbits, and while they had not spent much time talking during the day, they had spent the night getting the opportunity to do so.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm still struggling to understand all this," Sam said to them, which in reality meant that it was completely passing over his head. "All this stuff about kom-poo-ters… and in-tur-net… and day-ta. It really doesn't make much sense to me. I… admit that I'm not exactly the sharpest out there – I'm a gardener after all and don't need to know much other than how to treat a plant or how to cook something but…"

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo chuckled. "I really don't understand it either."

"Oh good," Sam said. "Then it's not just me."

"Maybe we're doing a really bad job of explaining it," D-Monitamon-2 murmured. "I wish that Wisemon was here. He could probably explain it in a way that would make a baby understand but we don't really have a clue what to say."

"Maybe we should just say that we're from another universe, which is a place where things are wildly and utterly different from how they are here and just leave it at that really," D-Monitamon-3 suggested. "I've got no better way of explaining it."

"Now that there is a right fancy story, Mister Monitamons," Sam said, with a rather suspicious look. Sam was not actually that suspicious a person by nature, but he was talking to three creatures who didn't even have proper heads while they were on an incredibly sensitive mission – so he did have a good point in being suspicious. "How do we know if it's true or not?"

"He has a point," Frodo nodded. "It does seem pretty out there. We come from a place far away from here ourselves, but you guys are claiming that you come from not only further than that, but from a place beyond the stars themselves."

"Well it is true," D-Monitamon-1 mumbled rather feebly.

"We really aren't very good at this," D-Monitamon-2 bemoaned.

"We really aren't very good at anything," D-Monitamon-3 whined. "If we were they we wouldn't have gotten separated from Ballistamon like that and he was the only Digimon that we even had on our side here."

"I'm still a little confused on that matter as well," Sam said. "You said that you're all Digimon, but you also said that all three of you are Monitamon… which is it?"

"Both," D-Monitamon-2 said brightly. "We are all Digimon by species but Monitamon is our type… maybe you could call it our subspecies."

"Like… how there are Noldor Elves and Sindar Elves, but all of them are Elves?" suggested Frodo.

"Or how there are Cave Trolls and Mountain Trolls but all of them are Trolls?" Sam caught on.

"Maybe. What are Elves and Trolls?" all three of the Monitamon asked at the same time.

"Well…" Sam said. "If you haven't heard of Elves and Trolls then you're definitely from far off reaches, I can tell you that. But we still no nothing about you really. And we only have your word that anything you're saying at all is true."

The Monitamon recognised this as a valid concern, before one of them – D-Monitamon-3 to be exact – suddenly started jumping up and down on the spot. "Oh, oh, oh! I have an idea. Let's show them some of our videos from the old days!"

The other two Monitamon gasped. "Why didn't we think of that before?!" D-Monitamon-1 cried, smacking itself in the side of his TV set hard enough to almost knock himself over.

"It's brilliant!" D-Monitamon-2 agreed. "We can show them all the things that we seen and done when we were fighting with the other Digimon of Xros Heart. That'll be all the proof we need."

"What are videos?" Frodo blinked.

"Just look at our screens," D-Monitamon-3 said excitedly. "We Monitamon have the ability to show the things that we have seen on our screen to others like it's a moving image. Check it out."

And Sam and Frodo watched, startled and fascinated, as the little guy began to show the images on his… face… or at least where his face would be if he actually had a face. For a moment they were merely alarmed, but then they drew closer to peer at what they were being shown in amazement. For they could see images of what looked like some kind of huge Man clad in orange armour swinging a sword at a young boy that was defending himself with his own blade and being pushed back as he did so.

The images rapidly cycled through what looked like many fierce battles, with creatures they couldn't even begin to describe fighting against each other, throwing flames or wind or energy blasts at each other, with explosions going off everywhere. They sometimes grew larger or merged together to form one body. Occasionally they would see that blue metal beetle in the middle of the fighting and some young Men dashing about on occasion with little handheld devices in their hands.

They saw a chaotic battle against hundreds of thousands with lightning flashes going off around the screen at the Monitamon launched themselves into the attack. It was a fight on a scale that none of the Hobbits had ever seen before and it both fascinated and terrified them at the same time.

When the Monitamon was done, Frodo and Sam fell silent, staring at the now blank screen once again.

"So?" D-Monitamon-1 asked. "What do you think?"

"…You know, Mister Frodo," Sam said weakly. "I think that they might be telling the truth."

"I am beginning to agree with you Sam," Frodo nodded, his own mind a little stretched with the enormity of it all. It felt like his entire perception of the world had been expanded outwards by magnitudes and even an intelligent Hobbit like is was struggling to keep up with it.

"Of course we are," the Monitamon nodded vigorously together, bobbing their headsets in a rather comical fashion.

Frodo nodded slowly himself. "Yes," he said. "Yes… I think… alright then. I believe it. I believe that you really are from another universe. Wow, I do not believe that I just said that."

"Nor I, Mister Frodo," Sam agreed. "But you guys were also saying you think those giant monsters you were showing us just then might be in this world too now? That's rather alarming."

"No, just the ones that were fighting with us and not against us," D-Monitamon-3 stated. "Don't worry if we run into them. They won't harm you. Especially if we're with you."

Frodo coughed. "Um… out of interest, how long are you three… planning to tag along? Remember, I did say that once we were out of the rocks you can't come along anymore."

"Well we'll still leave if you really want us to," D-Monitamon-2 shrugged. "But I don't know. I think it would be better if we stayed. We can help you in some way surely. You said you're on some kind of dark mission. Surely you need all the help that you can get."

"Not in this case," Frodo shook his head. "No, in this case it is better if the party is as small as possible."

The Monitamon fell silent, the mood at the camp turning a little down in the process. Nearby Gollum continued to snooze, or at least look like he was snoozing – nobody could tell if he was really asleep or whether he was faking it, but none of them were quite yet prepared to take that risk.

* * *

However, when the Sun came up that morning, Gollum had roused himself and bounded onto a nearby rock, waving his arm in a beckoning motion, "Come Hobbits. Still have ways to go before we is getting to the edge of these nasty rockses. We shows you."

A hasty breakfast of a bite of _lembas_ bread each and the Hobbits were on their way once again, following Gollum through the rocks with the Monitamon darting around up above to keep an eye on things.

Things progressed pretty much the same way as yesterday after that, with more hurrying on around more rocks and boulders that all looked similar but thankfully not exactly the same. Frodo could at least discern that Gollum was not leading them in circles as they had been going in before without his help.

* * *

And then eventually, their patience paid off and Gollum hopped over onto another boulder and pointed excitedly to the East. "See?" he cried. "See. We did it, just as we told Master we would. Yes, precious. The rockses will not confuse you anymore."

And he was quite right. Frodo and Sam actually felt their spirits lift up at the sight of the clear path out of the rocks that was now ahead of them – even though the huge, ominous-looking mountains of Mordor loomed ahead of them, the sky behind them still crackling and rumbling in the distance. It was just such a relief to finally be out of that wretched maze that even that was almost a welcome sight.

"Thank you, Gollum," Frodo sighed. "You've been very true to your word so far."

"You is lucky we is stumbling across you, yes," Gollum bobbed his head. "We has heard that orcses that tried to reach the lands beyond got so lost in those rockses that they all ate each other so they wouldn't starve. And then there was only one that eventually did starve, didn't he, precious? Dangerous place to be lost, that maze."

"I don't think I needed to hear that story, thank you," Sam said, with a rather sick look on his face.

"But your task isn't over yet, Gollum," Frodo pointed out. "You've got to get us to the Black Gate like you promised."

"And we is doing is, we is doing it, Master," Gollum replied. "There is Mordor's boundary mountains just up ahead. The Dark Land is lying just beyond and we will take you there as you ask us."

"Wait, _that_ place is Mordor?" all three Monitamon suddenly displayed alarmed looks on their screens. "That place is where you're going?"

"It reminds me of the Great Demon Palace and the area that was around it," D-Monitamon-3 shuddered.

"Or Hell's Field," D-Monitamon-1 agreed.

"Don't even mention Hell's Field," D-Monitamon-2 wrapped his arms around himself. "Still, I know you said you had a dark path but that is way more dark than I thought. You're seriously considering going into that place?"

"I have to," Frodo said, uneasily, really not happy about discussing this sort of thing in front of these creatures.

"Why?" D-Monitamon-2 pressed. "What's so important about going to such a foreboding place as that that you have no other choice but to go there. I mean, you can tell us everything you know…"

"It's none of your business!" Frodo suddenly snapped at them, rounding on them with a rather furious gleam in his eyes, so much so that Sam also took a step back. The Monitamon, who had had nothing but politeness from Frodo up to that point, all fell backwards and huddled together, trembling at the rather wild look in Frodo's eyes.

Frodo saw their reaction and his face soften instantly, causing him to sit down rather hard on a nearby rock and bring his hand up to his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Look… I'm sorry, I… didn't mean to lash out like that. I don't know what came over me."

Sam had a feeling he did. The Monitamons' questions would have, if Frodo answered them, led to them learning everything about the Ring that he was wearing around his neck, hidden under his shirt. It was definitely a touchy subject considering it was supposed to be a super secret mission for Frodo to undertake to destroy it and that the enemy should not learn of it under any circumstances. But for Frodo to look so angry so quickly… that really was out of character for him.

He didn't like it. It was like, for a moment, Frodo had been more concerned about the Monitamon not learning about the Ring because he was feeling possessive of it, rather than because they were seeking to destroy it.

He couldn't say anything about this in front of the Monitamon though, or they would learn of their true intentions. And he certainly didn't want to start talking about it in front of Gollum, who was still standing on his own rock nearby and watching the party with an expression of curiosity.

"Look," Frodo said, as he climbed to his feet and looked at the Monitamon apologetically. "All you need to know is that's where I'm going, and you already know more than you should just by knowing that itself. But we've got you to the edge of the rocks like we promised and now I think that it is time for us to part ways. Sam and I must press on, and we can't take you with us. This is a task that we must accomplish _without_ the help of others."

"Then what about him?" D-Monitamon-3 pointed at Gollum.

"We need him to show us the path to take," Frodo replied. "We'd be lost without him. But I'm sorry to say that there is no room for the three of on the road with us. We just can't take you. You'd be put in danger for one thing."

"We've been in danger before," pointed out D-Monitamon-1.

"I was still scared of it though," D-Monitamon-3 added meekly.

"Well, regardless, I can't be held responsible," Frodo shook his head. "For if something bad were to happen to you… I don't think I could stomach it." He deliberately didn't mention that those risks were not just from enemy forces but that there was also a high risk of them succumbing to the power of the Ring if they did travel with him. They were ignorant of its presence right now, but if they came to learn of it… it would almost certainly reach out to them, to try and ensnare them, get them to take it.

Having Gollum around it was dangerous enough, but it was true that they did need him to show them the way. The Monitamon they did not need, and he didn't want to risk their lives, their wills or the mission and therefore the fate of the world, by bringing them along.

"I wish you the best of luck with whatever it is that you do next," he said. "I hope you find your friends. But you can't come with us. Gollum, which way do we go now?"

"Is Master wanting the quickest way to get to the Black Gate?" Gollum asked.

"Yes, it's vital that we get there as quickly as possible," Frodo nodded.

"Then we is recommending the straightest path," Gollum said, with a slight twist to his jaw. "There is only one to take from here anyway actually. The path through the marshes. _Gollum! Gollum!"_

"Marshes?" Sam asked quickly. "You want to take us into the middle of a swamp? So that you can find a way to push us in and drown us at first opportunity I expect."

"Sam, that's enough," Frodo raised a hand. "Are you sure, Gollum? That's the best path?"

"It is the only path from here unless Master wants to go back into the rocks," Gollum replied, pointing out towards the rather misty landscape between where they stood and the mountains. "The marshes is miles and miles wide in every direction, but we knows the only path that can get through it. Yes, we does. If we is wanting to go around, which would take us days – yes, it would – then we is going to have to go back down into the rocks and find another way out."

"Sounds like a convenient excuse to get us to go through it to me," Sam grumbled, not convinced.

"Very well, Gollum," Frodo looked up towards the marsh. "If you're certain we can cross it safely."

Gollum cackled to himself. "Oh yes, precious. We is certain. We knows the secrets of this land better than any others, we does. Master is lucky indeed that he can be learning our secrets."

"Alright then. Let's go," nodded Frodo.

"But wait!" D-Monitamon-2 suddenly cried out. "You can't leave us here now? If we have to go back into the rocks to find our way around the marsh then we'll just get lost in there again. If we try and find another way of crossing the marsh we'll probably get stuck and drown. You can't leave us here."

"That's right," D-Monitamon-3 agreed. "We'd be stranded here, and it could take us forever to find our way out."

Frodo hesitated for a moment, but then sighed, knowing that they had a good point. Without Gollum to guide them they would just remain stuck in this place. He gritted his teeth a little – he had been hoping to get rid of their tagalongs quickly before they got too curious, but it looked like they were going to be stuck with them for a while longer… because Frodo couldn't just leave them behind in a situation like this.

_You always were soft-hearted, Frodo,_ he murmured in his own mind. "Alright," he added aloud. "You can keep us company through the marshland. But as soon as we're through…"

"Then we split up," D-Monitamon-1 saluted. "Got it, sir."

Frodo couldn't help but chuckle, but he nodded to Gollum and said, "Lead the way."

"We will never steer the Hobbitses wrong," Gollum declared, leaping from the boulder with the grace of a tree frog and shuffling down the slope towards the marsh at the bottom. Frodo started after him with Sam close behind, and the Monitamon paused for a while before following at a more sedate pace than usual. Frodo had still scared them a little bit when he had lashed out and they were being a bit more cautious now anyway, since they were about to head into a bog.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at them to see how far back they were, then looked ahead to see Gollum was far enough away, before he stepped up to Frodo and murmured so the others wouldn't hear, "Are you sure about this, Mister Frodo?"

"About what?" Frodo asked back, equally quietly. "About trusting Gollum. Sam, you know he's our only real…"

"No, not that," Sam shook his head. "Well, that too actually but that wasn't what I was talking about. I was talking about those Monitamon and, you know, sending them on their way and that when we get to a point where they can."

"Of course I'm sure," Frodo nodded. "It isn't safe for them to come and it isn't safe for us it they know too much. The Lady Galadriel told me that I had to finish this task alone. That if I didn't, then the Ring would destroy those who travel in my company."

"But Frodo, you didn't send me away," Sam pointed out.

"I tried to," Frodo reminded him. "And you almost drowned yourself trying to follow me. And… to be honest I don't think I that I _can_ accomplish this task totally alone… and I know that no matter what, you at least would have my back Sam. Because honestly, you take your loyalty to the extreme."

"I honour my promises, Mister Frodo," Sam said. "And I promised Gandalf that I would help you in any way that I could before we even left the Shire. You weren't going to make me break that promise so easily. And even if I hadn't made that promise, it's like what my old Gaffer told me. 'Never turn your back on your friends, Samwise Gamgee,' is what he'd say. 'Because your friends are the most important things in your life that you can have.'"

"He's not wrong," Frodo chuckled. "I think that Gollum would have got me already if you hadn't been around."

"Well, that big beetle did save both of us from him last time," Sam said, modestly.

"Maybe, but perhaps if I had been on my own, Gollum would have struck earlier. Who can tell? The point is though, Sam – while there is room for you on this journey because I know I'll need someone dependable, and Gollum is the guide, we can't just let these guys come with us. We just can't."

"If you say so, Mister Frodo," Sam replied. "But… well… I don't mean to speak out of turn and all but… another three sets of eyes on that Gollum couldn't hurt. Or whatever those guys use instead of eyes. And I also thought… maybe if they joined us then there would be less chance of them going off and telling people they saw us and that they knew where we were going, don't you think?"

Frodo actually considered that for a moment. It was true that if the Monitamon _was_ with them then there was less chance of a hunt being set for them if they accidentally blabbed, largely because if the Monitamon got caught by the enemy then they all would at the same time. But then he shook his head and said, "And what if they learn about what our quest is, then decide it's too dangerous after all and go with the _full_ knowledge of everything we're trying to do? I don't think I'm prepared to take that risk, Sam."

Sam nodded and let his objections slide for now. He was still very uneasy about Gollum's presence but he was now more sure that the small guys at least could be trusted. But he said nothing more on the matter. Frodo was the Ringbearer, this was his quest, and it was his right to decide how it should be undertaken.

However, the Monitamon had actually been secretly eavesdropping on the conversation, one of them having extended a satellite dish from the top of it head to feed the audio into their headsets and broadcasted it to the other two so they could all listen in. They still didn't know what the Quest actually was, and they felt guilty for listening in, but they were beginning to think that they had to in order to learn a few things.

"_What do we do?"_ one of them asked on the channel that allowed them to speak only in each other's heads. _"Sounds like there's a lot more to this quest stuff than we thought if he's saying things like that. Sounds like it's very dangerous indeed."_

"_Must be something big to risk so much,"_ D-Monitamon-2 agreed.

"_Yeah, but what are we meant to _do_ about it?"_ D-Monitamon-1 asked. _"They don't want our help, but it sounds like they're going to need all the help we can get."_

"_And how much help are we Monitamon going to be able to give to them?" _D-Monitamon-2 protested. _"We're not powerful like Shoutmon or Greymon or the others, and if they're going into a dark place like that Mordor looks… are we really the best ones for them to be relying on?"_

"_It doesn't matter," _D-Monitamon-3 said, with more firmness than he'd ever been able to muster in his entire life before this point. _"What matters is that we are Xros Heart Digimon and we cannot turn our backs on those who need our help, right? Even if they don't even _want_ our help. We're going on this quest because right now they need help and we are the only ones who can give it to them right now."_

"_He's right,_" D-Monitamon-1 agreed after a slight pause of consideration. _"We have to help. But what if they refuse to let us join._"

"_Then we can follow them in secret and make sure they stay safe,_" D-Monitamon-2 suggested. _"That's what the three Elite Monitamon would do."_

"_Fair enough. It's decided. We're helping them. Let's just hope that we can convince them to accept it,_" D-Monitamon-3 finalised.

* * *

It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the quagmire, and though the mist was everywhere, it was not especially thick, meaning that they could still see a blurred landscape for some way in every direction.

It seemed that Gollum had not been exaggerating when he had said the marshes led off for miles in every direction, with clumps of ground growing up out of the water as if they were the little streams and the water was the land. The swamp pressed up right against the borders of Emyn Muil, making the path they had taken out of the rocks the only one for some distance.

"I don't like the looks of this place," Sam looked around edgily. "Something feels… unnatural about it. Everything's too still."

"It's spooky," D-Monitamon-2 agreed as the three Monitamon caught up with the others.

"Are we going to have to swim in some parts of this?" D-Monitamon-3 cringed. "I failed the lesson where we learned how to breathe through those hollow tubes. In fact, I failed the class where we learned how to swim at all."

"I never even had a class about learning to swim," Sam agreed.

"Come on Hobbits," Gollum said, from where he was already out a fair distance across the land. "We isn't needing to get in the water, no precious. Though if you was being led by anyone else, you would. But we knows the best way through the marshes. We knows the _only_ way through the marshes. Yes, we does."

"I still say that sounds convenient to me," Sam muttered as Frodo stepped out onto the land spits that Gollum had passed over.

"Are you certain about this, Gollum?" Frodo asked.

"Oooh, yessss Master. We is knowing the safe paths. We is knowing _all_ the safer paths in these lands. See… look ahead."

The company drew to a close and saw that Gollum had a point. Though it was hard to see through the mist, they could see what looked like an almost entirely unbroken stretch of winding land that led away into the distance.

"It still doesn't look particularly safe," D-Monitamon-3 murmured.

Gollum scowled at him, causing him to flinch backwards a little. "What does little creatures with no faces know about these parts? We found this found ourselves, we did. Nobody else knows of this. We have never seen anyone else crossing these lands before. Not besides us, no. Not even orcses or Men."

"Come on, let's just go," Frodo said, and the group began to step outwards, Gollum ever leading them onwards. It was like Emyn Muil all over again, taking a winding road around the place except that this time they were avoiding water instead of skirting cliffs. The Hobbits bare feet still got quite damp in places and at one point Frodo put his foot into to the water and withdrew it with a look of disgust on his face – that water had felt particularly cold and clammy.

But other than that they still made fairly good progress.

"Come on, come on," Gollum ushered them onwards. "We must go quickly. We must hurry."

"What are you trying to make us hurry for?" Sam asked. "I thought you said there weren't any other people around for miles."

"Yes, precious, but when the mist is clear, people can _see_ for miles here," Gollum hissed. "We is out in the open on these marshes, and we doesn't like that, does we precious. No, nooooo, we doesn't." And then his voice went into a rather different and actually slightly more pleasant tone, his face taking on a brighter look as he added, "But we is still sure that there is nothing to worry about, Master." And then his face twisted back into its half-scowl as he added, "But we must be like wraiths in the night. The Dead Marshes is not a safe place, even when there is nobody around."

"The 'Dead' Marshes?" D-Monitamon-1 shuddered. "I don't like the sound of that name. Why is called that?"

"You will see," Gollum almost snickered to himself as he bounded on.

"Was that a threat?" Sam asked, his hand going for his sword. "That sounded an awful lot like a threat to me, Gollum. You better watch your step."

"No, fat Hobbit," Gollum turned back, causing Sam to splutter and go red at being called fat. "It is you who should be watching were you is stepping. For you is about to step into the water." Sam looked down automatically and saw that Gollum was right and he had lifted his foot to step onwards only to find that there was actually no land beneath it. He quickly drew his foot back and lowered his guard reluctantly.

"So, why _is_ it called the Dead Marshes, Gollum?" Frodo asked.

"Master will see for himself soon," Gollum said. "The Dead Marshes is stagnant. They is empty of life. Here, there is little but death."

"That doesn't sound encouraging," D-Monitamon-1 shuddered.

"Oh, it's not that bad," D-Monitamon-3 murmured, trying to show some bravado as he continued to step forward. "It reminds me of being back home actually – you know everything's so quiet because there's ninjas hiding in the trees, doing their practice exercises and then… WHOA!" he suddenly cried as he slipped on a wet, muddy patch of ground and landed with a plonk in the water, sinking instantly.

"Monitamon!" cried Frodo, running over to see if he could help, only for him to trip on a small knoll and stumble, almost losing his footing himself.

"No! Brother!" yelled the other two as they dashed forwards, preparing to do something stupid like jump in after him to try and save him even though they couldn't swim themselves. But they were both beaten to it suddenly when Gollum pounced forwards, swept them aside with a long thin hand and plunged the other into the water, his fingers wrapping around the Monitamon's leg as he sank down and yanking him back out of the water, dangling him upside down by the leg.

The Monitamon spluttered a little, and then cried, "Oh… thank you, Master Gollum sir. You saved me."

Gollum seemed to find this amusing, "Oh, look my previous, we caught ourselves a little red fishie," he said, then he added in a lower tone, "We wonders if its tasty."

"Tasty?" the Monitamon cried in alarm. "What do you mean tasty? No, don't eat me!"

Gollum let loose a squawk-like laugh and danced away from the edge, depositing the Monitamon on his backside. "Oh, it's a funny little thing, isn't it, precious? It thought we was serious. Heheheheheheheeeee. We does tell a good joke sometimes, doesn't we? Doesn't we, precious, yes we does."

"Um… if you say so," the Monitamon muttered weakly, dripping wet and clambering to its feet with the help of the other two. "Still… thanks again… for saving me."

"Silly little Digimon was being very clumsy here," Gollum said, bringing his gaunt face a little closer to the startled Digimon. "It cannot afford to be clumsy here – not in this swampland, or next time it might fall in somewhere where we cannot pluck it out."

"Oh," he then said in his lighter tone, "but it was pretty funny this time around, wasn't it, precious? It just walked right over the edge, skippity skip and wheee, it slipped. It wasn't even following the lights."

"Lights? What lights?" the Monitamon looked around in bemusement.

"We still hasn't reached the point of the marsh where the light are," Gollum went on almost as if he hadn't actually heard the question and his voice back in its lower tone. "Silly little Digimon had better be watching their step when we get there. Better than it was watching its step just now."

"When was the last time that new little candles were lit in that part of the swamp?" he asked in his higher voice.

"We doesn't know, precious," his lower voice replied. "No, but we wonders if that will be the case this time."

Everyone was staring at Gollum now as if he had grown an extra head or something, but since he seemed to be having a conversation with himself it probably wouldn't have been all that surprising if he had. Gollum noticed them staring and said, "All that thinking about fishes is making me hungry. Come on Hobbits, let's go. There is no tasty foods in this land for us. The sooner we get across the sooner we can eats."

"That's not the case for us, Gollum," Sam said. "We've got our own food right here."

"I think it might be a good idea if we did take a bit of a break," Frodo agreed. "We have been on our feet all day after all, for the most part at least. Let's have a short stop."

"Stop? No, we cannot be stopping in this place, Master," Gollum protested as the Hobbits began to settle down, the Monitamon wondering over to join them. "There is nothing here for us, no. We is in the open and there is nothing soft and juicy and crunchable for our tummy here. We has not eaten properly for days."

"And who's fault is that exactly?" Sam asked. "Not ours. We're hungry too but we carry it around with us like civilised people."

"Should we be offended by that?" D-Monitamon-1 asked.

"I am getting hungry too," D-Monitamon-3 patted his belly. "We haven't had anything since those berries some time ago."

"Have you got any food we can have?" D-Monitamon-2 ventured.

"Well… yes…" Frodo nodded, lifting up a wafer of _lembas _bread and breaking off a piece. "But… erm… how do you eat. You don't have a mouth."

"We can eat fine," D-Monitamon-2 said, holding out his hand as Frodo tossed the little piece of bread to him. "Watch." And the little speaker that was situated just beneath his screen slid downwards to leave a hole in a place similar to where a creature's mouth would normally be and the Monitamon chucked the bread into the hole, before the speaker slid back into place… and that was it. There was no crunching or chewing or anything like. It just… got eaten.

"Um… okay…" Frodo muttered

"Quite nice," the Monitamon said. "Any more?"

"It's a special kind of bread," Frodo explained as he put a piece into the hands of the other two. "Designed for long journeys. Only a small piece of it is enough to fill you up. We don't want to waste the supplies too much."

"Really? Awww," the Monitamon sagged. "Well it's handy I suppose, but it takes all the fun out of mealtime."

"I hear you," Sam chuckled. "I'm a big believer in all my meals being regular and properly proportioned."

"Yes, we can see that, can't we precious," Gollum cackled. Sam shot a hate-filled glare his way, as the gangly creature shifted around on the spot. "But that doesn't stop us from being hungry. We is _staaaaarving_. We isn't going to find anything but bugs and grubs in this place to eat, precious. Oh no… not even any nice tasty fishes."

"Well, you could always try this," Frodo offered, tossing him another piece of the bread. Gollum eyed it suspiciously for a moment before he gingerly picked it up from the grass and sniffed it, leaning away from it almost immediately.

"Nasty Elvish stuff," he muttered, before he took a tentative bite out of it. He immediately spat it out so forcefully that it hit Sam in the face, and the Hobbit practically rose to his feet right there, if Frodo hadn't put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Cruel Hobbits, trying to kill me with choking bread," Gollum whimpered. "Elvish reek and horrible taste. We can't eat this." He dropped the rest of it, and one of the Monitamon eagerly picked it up and scarfed it, to the complaint of the other two. "We must go without. We must waste away into nothing."

"Would you quite being so melodramatic," Sam growled at him. "Wasting precious bread like that and complaining about what we give you. We'd probably be better off if you did starve."

"Mean Hobbit. Nasty, horrible Hobbit," whined Gollum. "We is showing it secret ways through the marshes and it wants us to die. It is cruel, yes _cruel_, like the orcses were cruel to us too."

Sam bristled at being compared to an Orc, but then Gollum turned his eyes on Frodo and said, "But the Master, yes… he cares about us. We is glad to have him as our Master and not the mean one. Because… the mean one doesn't understand… doesn't get it… doesn't know…what it does to us."

The Monitamon distinctly saw Gollum's eyes move down towards Frodo's chest, and they saw Frodo reach up to cover it protectively with a hand.

"Yes, there it is," Gollum nodded. "The precious… it is strong. It is… always in our minds, never fading away. And it never… never will." His hand was stretching out towards Frodo even as he spoke, and Frodo flinched backwards while Sam tensed visibly.

"Gollum, get back!" Frodo growled in a display of revulsion and anger that the Monitamon had not seen him display towards Gollum since the attack. Gollum recoiled as if struck, looking a little unsure about something, before he sniffed and turned his back, shuffling away to stare at his reflection in the water nearby.

"What was that all about?" D-Monitamon-1 asked.

"Nothing important," Frodo said, a little sharply because he knew that the Monitamon almost certainly wouldn't buy that.

And he was right, they didn't. They knew full well he was hiding something, but unfortunately they did not possess X-ray vision so they couldn't see what was under his shirt.

"_What are we supposed to do?"_ D-Monitamon-1 asked.

"_Just go with it," _D-Monitamon-2 suggested. _"We'll probably find out eventually._"

The group lapsed into silence for a while after that and then eventually Frodo stood up and said, "I think that's enough now, Gollum. We'll press on now until sundown."

"Yes, Master," Gollum nodded, getting up and leading the way. "We thinks that tomorrow will be the day. The day that we will reach the part with the lights. Then you will see… you will see why the Dead Marshes is getting its name. _Gollum, Gollum!"_

"I still think that sounds like a threat," Sam muttered to himself as the group proceeded on, all of them being much more careful where they put their feet – the Monitamon in particular.

And so, the day of February the 28th drew to a close over Middle Earth – a day that had seen much change and many revelations from around the entire length of the land. As the Sun sank further down the sky towards the evening, Frodo and his party continued onwards through the eerie marshes.

And although they didn't know it, they were heading in the direction of three absolutely petrified little Digimon that still had not moved from their position once again after their encounter in the water.

* * *

There you go people – the two groups have not met yet, but they are definitely on their way to meeting with one another. Hehehe. I know that might be a spoiler but it was probably pretty obvious anyway. Still, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I remember how fun it is to write Gollum, though I am looking forward to the point where I can branch him away from similar trains of thoughts he had in the movies a little more.

Until next time. Next QOTG update will probably be on Thursday. Bye then.

* * *

Next time…

Night falls over Middle Earth and Aragorn and his company continue to pursue the Uruk-Hai upwards through the darkness, while Shoutmon waits impatiently for something to happen with Gandalf in the forest of Fangorn. But fate is drawing things together as the Uruk-Hai stop for a break on the borders of the forest, and Merry and Pippin's lives may be on the line.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 31 : Maggoty Bread**


	31. Maggoty Bread

Heya everybody. Sorry about the delay to this chapter but the weekend got a bit hectic for me and stuff. I'm not really going to bother trying to explain it much as it would take a while, but suffice to say I actually wrote most of this chapter today to try and make up for lost time. Still, I hope you enjoy it even though you will probably all have seen a fairly large portion of it before. Hehehe. Well, never mind – I tried to put my own spin on things as usual. Anyway, have fun.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 31:- Maggoty Bread**

* * *

February 28th finally drew to a close, the Sun setting on Middle Earth once again and the Moon dutifully rising upwards to take its place in the sky and do its best to illuminate the darkness on the world, which was difficult because it was in a crescent shape tonight. It saw quite a few changes made since the last time it had appeared in the sky – the various newcomers to Middle Earth more and more encountering the inhabitants that already lived here.

Perhaps the biggest change of the day was Sparrowmon and MailBirdramon's arrival at Rivendell. After that terrible attack that had taken place earlier that day, the Elves had returned to their halls once more to mourn their dead, cleaning up the battlefield as best they could and bearing their fallen comrades home. Sparrowmon had solemnly helped where she could, her hands making her the only aerial being capable of doing so while the Eagles and MailBirdramon looked on.

Once that task had been accomplished, the Elves had questioned the Digimon at length, asking them about their world and their friends, but afterwards, when they had heard what the Digimon had to say about their aims and their morals, and the fact that both of them were even more interested in staying here and helping the Elves than they were going back and continuing to search for their friends, they had been surprised.

But, as Sparrowmon said, "You guys are the ones that are in more immediate danger than they are and we can't be everywhere at once. Shoutmon would say that we need to help those that need help in front of us and since we're apparently here _to_ help you anyway, then that's what we're going to do."

And so the Digimon and the three Eagles were settling in to roost for the night on the towers of Rivendell, though Gwaihir said that come morning, he would return to the eyries and check up on the progress of the other Eagles to see if they had found anything during the searches he had sent them on.

* * *

Most of the rest of the Digimon were on the move, having found a destination that they needed to get to and fallen in with some local company that was willing to guide them there. Lillymon, now free of the Spiders, was settling down for a more comfortably spent night in an Elven camp, with the three Monitamon beside her.

Knightmon, the PawnChessmon, Starmon and the Pickmon were also travelling north with the Dwarves, Dwalin and Bofur and their small company, having said goodbye to the Men of Esgaroth except for those who had agreed to come with them – a small guard of them that wanted to see how this turned out and had been instructed by Esgaroth's aster to tell them of what transpired when these strange creatures reached the mountain fortress of Erebor.

Dorulumon's day had been rather unproductive really. While the initial plan had been for him to head straight towards this Edoras place with the two kids and their mother, the other villagers had begged him to stay and protect them as they made their way to Helm's Deep, wherever that was, for fear of coming under attack from more of those Wild Men and giant Orcs. Dorulumon had agreed, staying true to the motto of Xros Heart by helping those that needed him, but the progress had been _frustratingly_ slow. Especially for a fast-moving Digimon like him.

He couldn't really blame the villagers though. After all a good many of them were rather old or very young and many of them had been injured in some manner by the invaders and had a lucky escape. He had stuck close to them as they ambled along, helping to carry some of the wounded on his back, including one old man that had kept mumbling about he could barely believe he was riding a warg…or at least something that looked like a warg.

And as Dorulumon was sitting by as the villagers prepared to stop for the night, Beelzemon was doing something similar up north. After his battle with the orcs that had been invading Lothlórien he had a lot more time to contemplate some of the things that lay ahead. For a powerful Digimon like him, that had not been much of a challenge, but he was getting the distinct impression that it would not always be so easy.

But in any case he was all set to head out in the morning, providing he could drag Wisemon away from attempting to get a stool sample from one of the Elves – a prospect that made even a hardened warrior like him shudder.

Ballistamon, unlike most of the other Digimon, did _not_ settle down for the night. He didn't need to – he was more than capable of going without it for quite some time, and since there was nobody else around that needed sleep, why not just keep going? So that was what he did, rolling out of the large forest that he had eventually found himself in and heading out across the more open spaces at a steady but speedy pace.

The Gaossmon spent the rest of their day mostly running around aimlessly, pretty much the same thing that they had been doing since they got here, and many times they had had to regroup after several of their members had suddenly run off to chase a squirrel or a rabbit, barking incessantly as they did so.

Golemon continued on southwards, as if the small fight with those humans had not even happened, unaware that as the Sun began to descend, a pair of hard and calculating eyes, set in the head of Saruman the White, was currently staring at him through the Seeing Stone known as the Palantír which he had in his tower, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be.

Meanwhile Saruman himself was totally unaware of the fact that the immensely frustrated Bombmon were huddling together to spent yet another night totally trapped down here in the caverns of Isengard, trying hard to get some sleep over the clanking and bashing of metal the Orcs were making around them, never stopping or even slacking in their work. In fact, they seemed to get even _more_ productive at night. Worst long for the terribly tired Bombmon.

Other members of Xros Heart were also in unfortunate straits. Two of them were totally unconscious – Spadamon was still numb and rather unresponsive after his encounter with those horrible Barrow Wights, his Man protector Halbarad staring down at his small form next to the campfire every now and again, and wondering what the heck he was.

Bastemon too still had not shaken off the effects of the dart that had pierced her earlier, and she lay on her side, slumbering almost peacefully and, for the moment, unaware of how precarious a situation she was in.

Meanwhile Greymon was still slowly making his way down the river trying to find her – he had realised that only searching one side of the river for her was a bad idea for she could have ended up on either side if she managed to reach the shore, so now he was making even slower progress than before as he continually crossed the middle width river in an attempt to find any evidence of her, hoping that he had not already gone past her in the process.

Revolmon continued to languish in his makeshift cell despondently, while Faramir stood on a cliff ledge and pondered the Digimon's words, trying to weigh up whether Revolmon really could be trusted or not, the Man staring at the rising Moon as if hoping it would provide him with an answer or at least some inspiration.

Way up north of them in the Grey Mountains, Dracomon was settling himself down for the night, feeling oddly comfortable with the scent of dragons all around him but nervously trying to stay away from all the young drakes around him, not wanting to hear their ridicule of him once again.

Cyberdramon, on the other hand, stood over Dracomon like a metal statue, glaring all around them suspiciously as most of the other Dragons around them watched him coolly, their eyes blank, but their tails lashing a little in a warning gesture not to try anything. Cyberdramon looked up towards the large overhang that Drogoth was reclined on, the Dragon Lord sending him what looked like a smirk that Cyberdramon responded to with a small growl under his breath. He was not willing to leave anything to chance right now.

The Dunce Monitamon huddled close after the Hobbits and Gollum stopped for the day, feeling oddly chilled despite the fact the night was warm in these marshes and hoping to dispel it somehow, while Sam and Frodo huddled into their cloaks and Gollum went off to sleep on his own, the former Hobbit keeping a close watch on him suspiciously, having asked the Monitamon to do the same earlier that afternoon in hushed tones. There was still no way he was willing to trust Gollum not to pull something while they slept.

And not far away, ChibiKamemon, Lunamon and Dondokomon continued to cower beneath their grassy knoll, silently pleading for any of their Digimon brethren to find them soon as they really began to feel the effects of the lack of food and water, but none of them even thinking about shifting with those corpses all over the place.

Another of the worst off was Jijimon. The poor guy was beginning to lose all sense of focus as he continued to drift through the seemingly endless water, his beard heavily matted and his limbs leaden. His death-grip on his staff was becoming around the only thing that was keeping him afloat right now, as the lack of cover from the rather intense Sun and the lack of food or drinking water was weakening him considerably.

He could no longer even tell which direction he was going in, or even if he was going in any direction at all. Everything seemed so steady around him that for all he knew he could be going round in a giant figure of eight every hour or so and still have no clue. There was no longer any sign of land in any direction and he fervently hoped that he would soon come across something. Or he wasn't sure he could survive another day like this.

It could be said that the situations the Digimon had found themselves in varied from complete sanctuary to very real danger.

* * *

And for two of those Digimon in particular it was somewhere in the middle and those Digimon were Mervamon and Cutemon, who had found themselves in good company, but were already heading straight towards a potential fight. They were still on the trail of the Uruk-Hai that had captured those two Hobbits; Merry and Pippin – beings that neither of the two Digimon had ever even set eyes on before, but they were just as determined to rescue them as the four members of their party were.

As the Sun went down, Mervamon had fallen to the back of the group, helping Gimli along in any way that she could, which was not very much admittedly. All she could do was mutter encouragement for the struggling Dwarf, but she certainly admired his resilience to be able to keep going despite how obviously knackered he was.

"Keep coming, Gimli. That's the way," she said, with a slight smirk on her face. "You're doing your fellow Dwarves proud. It won't be long now before you've been running for three solid days. Imagine telling that to your family."

"I'd rather that I regale them with tales of my axe cleaving through Orcs then running a marathon such as this," Gimli huffed as he ran on. "Even my father didn't have to run this far on his own great quest, though he did tell me there was quite a bit of running involved. I'm sure he'd rather hear of how his axes were put to good use," he hefted one of the single-bladed axes that he was still holding in his hand as a demonstration point.

"Well, when we catch those Uruk-Hai then you definitely can," Mervamon said.

"How much ground have we gained, Aragorn?" Boromir called from slightly ahead, ignoring the sweat that was running in rivulets down his back at the enforced and prolonged run.

"We are closing," Aragorn shouted from the front. "But I fear we may lose much of what ground we covered this night. In these plains the Uruks are leaving less obvious clues of their passing – there is less foliage for them to destroy."

"You must have faith in your own tracking skills, Aragorn," Legolas said.

"Perhaps we should try and fashion a torch of some kind," Boromir suggested. "Surely one of us must have flint and tinder."

"I do," Gimli puffed. "We could certainly attempt it."

"No, there may not be a need for it," Mervamon suddenly countered. "Cutemon, do you think that you can do the job?"

"If we're close enough, kyu," Cutemon piped up, waking up from his doze almost instantaneously at the prospect of being helpful in some way. Mervamon increased her pace a little to catch up with some of the others and Cutemon bounded into a spring that covered a surprising distance for one of his size and stature, allowing him to sail through the air and land on Boromir's head.

The Gondorian Captain was rather startled by his sudden passenger but Cutemon was quickly off, leaping away again to land on Legolas' shoulder, before bounding off a third time to land at the front of the party on Aragorn's instead.

Aragorn glanced across at his rider but Cutemon just murmured, "How close do you think we are, kyu?"

"It's difficult to say, but I imagine that they are still quite a few leagues ahead," Aragon murmured. "But I would estimate no more than twenty miles at most. Hopefully less. That makes them less than half a day ahead of us."

"I hope that will be enough, kyu," Cutemon said. "Can we stop for a moment?"

"Why?" Aragorn blinked.

"Trust him," Mervamon called up. "He knows what he's doing."

Aragorn hesitated for a moment, not wanting the Uruk's to gain any further ground than necessary before he called a halt, raising his hand and in the dim moonlight the others drew to a stop behind him, Gimli leaning on one of his axes as he breathed heavily while Boromir seated himself on a rock with a hand over his chest.

Cutemon though placed his little hands over the muffler pads on either side of its head and the tall ear like projections on top of his head began to wave up and down, like a pair of legs kicking over the side of a ledge, flapping down so hard that they almost hit him in the face as they did so.

"What is he…?" Legolas asked but Mervamon placed her hand on his shoulder, indicating for quiet.

Cutemon looked up a moment later and grinned, saying, "They're ahead, kyu … about nineteen miles away and just a little bit northwest of the direction we were running in, kyu."

"How do you know?" Boromir asked with a frown.

"Cutemon are Digimon that are very good with sound-waves," Mervamon replied. "Those ears on top of his head are not actually ears at all. They're a special type of organ that allows him to sense strong vibrations or detect specific sounds when he searches for them."

"That's right, kyu," Cutemon smiled proudly. "And I just picked up the sound of all of those Uruk things and their feet crashing against the ground. We're definitely on the right track, kyu."

"That's why we had to stop then," Legolas murmured. "You wouldn't want the sound of our own footsteps to drown out the noises, would you?"

"No, kyu," Cutemon grinned. "Let's see if we can catch up them."

"You are most helpful indeed, Cutemon," Boromir smirked as he pushed himself up and the group began running again, Gimli moaning as he forced himself back into a run. "Healing wounds, detecting sounds? What else are you capable of doing?"

"Aaw, it's nothing really, kyu," Cutemon looked embarrassed, burying his little pink face in his darker pink scarf.

"Wait, if those aren't your actual ears then where are your actual ears then?" asked Gimli as he hurried along in the fading light.

"Under my muffler of course," Cutemon frowned. "Where else would they be, kyu?"

"Just making sure," Gimli murmured as he pushed himself on.

"It is most impressive," Aragorn agreed. "Yet I would still like it better if we could see the trail at our feet to follow the path they took specifically and see if we can find any further proof that our Hobbit friends are alive."

"Well, I can do that too," Cutemon said, raising his hands and saying, **"SKILLFUL HEALING!"**

The same greenish orb of light that had appeared over his hands when he had been healing Boromir appeared over his hands now. There was absolutely nothing for it to heal this time, but it still appeared, hovering around his tiny limbs like a small spherical lamp. The green glow that it gave off was not a particularly strong light, only illuminating the area around him for about a metre in any direction before the light tapered out at around two metres, but it was enough to illuminate the ground around them and allow Aragorn to much more clearly see the prints and marks in the grass that the bright moonlight could no unveil to him.

"Not really its proper use, kyu," Cutemon observed, looking at the little ball of light. "But I suppose it will do, won't it, kyu?"

"It will more than do," Aragorn chuckled as he examined the ground momentarily to see if they could find anything more on the condition of the Hobbits, but as usual he saw nothing and hurried off after the trail. Perhaps with this we should at least be able to stay level with them until the Sun rises, or even be able to close the distance between us still further. We shall rescue those Hobbits yet."

"Assuming that I do not collapse from a lack of air in my system before then," Gimli griped a little from the back of the line.

"Come on, Gimli," Mervamon dropped back into him. "Keep going or I shall be forced to carry you."

"You will do no such thing!" Gimli cried, increasing his speed a little further just to avoid the indignity.

Mervamon just chuckled and called up to the front of the line, "Be sure not to wear yourself down unnecessarily there Cutemon. Do not expend too much energy making that light."

"I won't, kyu."

And so the three of them kept up the pace into the night, aided by the glowing of Cutemon's hands and occasionally stopping for the little guy to take another reading with his ears to try and confirm the position of the Uruks relative to them, but other than that they ran mostly unbroken despite the darkness that fell upon the world once again.

But though the group didn't know it, they were heading rapidly in the direction of not just the fleeing Uruk-Hai, but a couple of dear friends to all the six members of their party.

* * *

Those friends had spent the majority of both last two days doing pretty much the same thing – waiting.

And waiting was something that Shoutmon had never been particularly good at.

He'd got better at it ever since he had become the Digimon King obviously. Sometimes the King had to be patient, such as when they were waiting from important news that he wanted right at that moment but couldn't have right at that moment because the messenger had not arrived or the intelligence had not been gathered of any other number of factors.

But to spent practically two whole days basically sitting around doing nothing in a situation like _this?_ One where his friends were potentially out there, risking their lives or in serious danger right at this very instant and practically all of them lost in strange world that they knew almost nothing about even after close to three days of being here… yeah, this was severely trying on his mind.

"Uggghhhh," he groaned as he watched the Moon rising into the sky through a gap in the tree canopy, reclined on the same large boulder that he'd spent the majority of the day sitting on. "How much longer are we meant to sit here exactly? This is _not_ the way I envisioned things being when I said that I would help you against this Sauron person that you said you were going to fight, old man. I sorta imagined there would be more action and blowing things up and innumerable other things… not sitting around trying to catch what limited sunlight filters through these damn trees."

An irritated groan instantly rang up all around him from said trees and Shoutmon instantly raised his hands and said, "Sorry… sorry. Guess I'm getting a bit crabby. Ignore me. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Have patience for a little longer, Shoutmon," Gandalf the White said as he stepped over towards the small dinosaur and settled down on a smaller rock himself, staff leaning against one shoulder. "It will not be too much longer before those which we are awaiting arrive."

"That is what you said last night," Shoutmon pointed out in a slightly deadpan manner, twirling his microphone in an effort to alleviate his boredom.

"You must forgive me for that," Gandalf chuckled. "When you reach the age I have and have seen the many things I have seen throughout my time, you find that time seems to elapse ever shorter, and what once seemed like an age passes by in a fleeting flash."

"Then how am I to know that actually we're going to have to wait here for another week before what you are saying is going to happen happens exactly?" Shoutmon asked.

"It will not be so long as that," Gandalf said reassuringly. "I believe that it will be some time tomorrow that both your and my friends reach this destination."

"If you say so," Shoutmon sighed. "Still, I am grateful that you managed to reunite me with one of my company at least." He glanced across to the clearing nearby where the massive, hulking shape of Deckerdramon was squeezed between the trunks of two large trees, which Shoutmon could swear had moved aside slightly to create a space wide enough for the giant metallic alligator to fit through and even tilted backwards to avoid his missile launchers scraping against their branches.

Treebeard the Ent, or as Shoutmon preferred to refer to him as – the Cherry-less Cherrymon – was not far away from the huge Digimon, towering just as tall as Deckerdramon did himself but with nowhere near the bulk. Still, he and Deckerdramon seem to be getting along surprisingly well considering the rather rough reception that Treebeard had given the Digimon a couple of days ago.

The Ent was now stepping slowly through the trees and gesturing wide out with his massive wooden arms. "_Hrroom_, and this ancient masterpiece of nature is known as… _hoom_… a beech tree… and a particularly fine specimen this one is. _Hrummm_… and over there, that is a sampling of ash. A rather… _hum_… inappropriate name for a tree I always thought, for if an ash were to burn down… it would still be ash… but you would be wise not to… _hmmmm_… mention it in front of them. They are… _mmmhmm_… rather sensitive about it."

"Fascinating," Deckerdramon murmured as he rolled on after Treebeard and seemed to be taken a genuine interest in what he was talking about, which was hardly surprising since he himself had been the guardian of the Forest Zone and all. "In the Digital World, we do not have so many different types of trees all condensed together like this. We have large forests of course, but they usually consist of one type of tree each, like our DigiNoir tree orchards… Not all combined together like this."

"_Hmmm,_ the trees of your world must have little to talk about if that is the case, Master Deckerdramon…" Treebeard hummed.

"Not really," Deckerdramon chuckled. "Most of them are not capable of speech or thought as these trees are. And the ones that are can talk to the other residents of the forest as well as each other so they are rarely bored. And they have near endless patience anyway."

"Wise indeed," Treebeard nodded. _"_Don't be hasty… that is my motto."

"Good council," Deckerdramon agreed. "Now what is that tree over there?"

"Man," Shoutmon muttered as he watched the pair of them. "Those two are getting on like a house on… yeah, I suppose finishing that sentence in a place full of thinking trees might not be the best idea but… they seem to be bonding well."

"It is hardly surprising given what I know about your friend," Gandalf observed. "Though I must admit even now, I know very little. I do not long for combat as some people of this world do but I confess, I would like to see his methods to dealing with Orcs."

"He could obliterate them," Shoutmon nodded with confidence. "Totally wipe them of the face of the world in a second flat. _Less_ than a second flat. Deckerdramon is the most powerful single Digimon in my personal army. There isn't anyone else that can stand up to him in a one on one fight from my force. Cyberdramon could give him a run for his money if he picked up the challenge but Deckerdamon is the biggest powerhouse."

"Then I suppose we can count ourselves fortunate that he is on our own side," Gandalf observed.

"Oh hell yes," Shoutmon nodded.

"But regardless of that, you heard Treebeard's motto just now. You must not be hasty Shoutmon. The Lady Galadriel informed me of where your place is to be in the coming war and it is by the side of my close friend, who is heading in our direction even now during the darkness of night. Your desire for combat, baffling as I find it, will eventually be sated."

"I know. But I just find this _so_ frustrating," he growled, clutching his staff tightly and hopping off the rock. I'm just… just… _standing_ here. Doing nothing. I am supposed to be the Digimon King and… what is a King that can't help his people? This is the sort of thing I was worried about from the very start – being unable to lead and protect without Taiki but… through inactivity like this? I have to _do_ something."

"Regardless of your efficiency as King or not, I am afraid that there is very little you can do for all of your loyal force," Gandalf sighed. "The will of Eru Ilúvatar is complex and I do not pretend to understand it but the Lady Galadriel informed me that they are scattered all over this world. No doubt all of them will eventually find some role to play in the war that is soon to come – that I am sure of. But not all of them will find it alongside you. You must do what you can to help the people who need you. And I fear that most of the Free People of this world will need you more than your own friends will in the long run."

"Yeah, I get that," Shoutmon growled. "But it's conflicting. I can't turn my back on you, but I can't turn my back on my friends either, can I? I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. I don't know what Taiki would do about this! What would he do when there are too many people out there that need your help?"

"You help the ones that need it most," Gandalf replied. "And from what I understand, most of your friends are more than capable of looking after themselves."

"_Most_," agreed Shoutmon. "But not all."

Shoutmon's mind flashed to all the members of the group who were not so battle capable, such as Cutemon, or ChibiKamemon, or heck even Bastemon, his hand unconsciously going to the yellow scarf she had given him as he thought of the feline princess. Or there were those like Jijimon and Dondokomon, who had been with him since he had been small, growing up in the Green Zone. And Lillymon – she was a capable fighter when she needed to be but those times where she'd had to be had been few and far between thus far. How was she coping?

His fist clenched shut for a moment, trembling with frustration as he thought of all them – his brothers and sisters in arms every one of them.

And before he could think about what he was doing he felt an intense roar building in the bottom of his chest and expelling outwards, the sound ripping through the forest and seeming to momentarily make the trees all lean away from him as he turned around slammed his fist full on into the rock he had been sitting on.

The rock practically shattered underneath the blow, the two biggest parts of it falling to either side like halves and thin wisps of smoke seemed to be coming from Shoutmon's fist. His scream of frustration had drawn the attention of everyone as he punched through the boulder now lying in bits of rubble at his feet and leaving him standing there with his fist outstretched and his eyes blazing and teeth clenched.

"Sorry," he murmured after a moment. "But sometimes that help to vent my spleen a little," he pulled his fist back and blew on it. He looked up towards Treebeard, who was regarding him dolefully from a short distance away. "Sorry about that," he called out. "Hope that boulder wasn't particularly special."

Treebeard's amber eyes rolled back into his head from a moment before he murmured, "You are bold and restless, Master Shoutmon. You would do well to try and go slower and steadier. That is how the forest works. The trees grow and expand and spread outwards slowly, but its lack of speed and hastiness gives the forest its strength."

"Thanks for the advice," Shoutmon murmured as Treebeard turned back to continue lecturing Deckerdramon about the trees.

"It is a virtue to have patience, as they say," Gandalf remarked.

"But they never say how hard it is when your friends could be in trouble and I can't go out and find them all," Shoutmon remarked. "But there's one thing that I don't understand about any of this? Why were we so spread out like this? I get that this Eru person of yours wants us spread out across the various realms to help from all angles but if this is some kind of test designed by the Code Crown to see if I can prove myself as a King… how am I meant to lead everyone like this."

"You aren't," Gandalf smiled. "You are meant to lead where you can and prove to yourself you are capable of being a King itself. And while I may know little about what this is all about I know for a fact that you, Shoutmon, are not the only member of your company that is here to undergo some kind of test."

"Excuse me?" Shoutmon blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You are not the only with self-doubts in your army," Gandalf replied. "There are others among your forces who have things that they must prove to themselves without your help, just as you must prove that you can do your task without the aid of this one that you call Taiki."

"Seriously?" Shoutmon blinked. "I… I guess I didn't think about that. But who… who else? Surely not all of them…"

"No, not all, but a few key individuals and many of them still have things they must realise or come to terms with," Gandalf said. "This war and your addition to it is not solely about you. It is about them too. You must do what you have to do and lead where you can. And they too will do what they have to do in order to get over their own doubts and troubles. And perhaps those who do _not_ have troubles of their own can help and assist the people of _this_ world who do in some other way."

"I… suppose that's a point," conceded Shoutmon.

"The will of Eru is sometimes hard to discern, but I believe that there is a reason he scattered you all so and when the time is right… I believe that the strings will all draw together. You shall see. And until then…"

"…have patience…?" guessed Shoutmon, a slight smirk appearing on the corner of his jagged mouth. "Alright, I'll do my best. But I can promise you that it will not be especially easy for me to stop myself from charging out there and doing something if they haven't arrived by this time tomorrow."

"I have the distinct feeling that that will not be necessary," Gandalf smiled, as Shoutmon settled himself down in the remains of his boulder to try and get some sleep.

* * *

Down South, the running continued. On and on, into the night, the Uruks and their ragtag group of pursuers continued on their way, thundering over the flat plains and through the darkness, the Uruks. The endurance of the pursuers was being tested, but they still kept running, Cutemon and Aragorn guiding their path together and allowing them to close the gap between them and their quarry.

With the company of the Uruk-Hai, Merry and Pippin continued to dangle from the backs of their respective captors. Despite the large gash in the side of his head from the Uruk's helmet and the congealed blood that had formed a line over his right eye and curved down to run down the right hand side of his face, Merry was now holding himself up better, though it was a struggle to keep his eyes open and his head away from the ridge in the helmet that had caused the injury in the first place.

Neither Hobbit said anything. Almost three days in the company of the viciously bad-tempered Uruks had long since taught them that keeping silent was their best option. Still, they continued to cast worried glances at one another, as if making sure that their fellow Hobbit was still alive and reassuring themselves that despite their plight, they were not alone in it.

Still, it didn't change the fact that they were dangling from the necks of two sturdy giant Uruk-Hai and heading towards the fortress of the White Wizard Saruman – the traitorous head of the White Council that had ordered the attack on their group in the first place.

And both of them were constantly replaying the scene in their minds of Boromir valiantly defending them to the last, arrow after arrow thudding into him as he refused to give up until he couldn't stand anymore. Both of them knew that there was almost no chance that he was still alive. They were wrong… but they didn't know that. And to be captured and held like this… it felt as though Boromir's incredible sacrifice was utterly wasted.

They could do nothing but dwell on their individual thoughts as they tried to catch what fitful sleep they could in this position.

* * *

But eventually, another halt was called. While the Uruk-Hai were physically designed and created by Saruman so that they could keep running for days at a time, as they had been doing thus far, the Orc reinforcements that had been sent to join them did not possess the same incredible endurance and, after near on two days of near non-stop running since they had joined the group they had long since gone past exhausted.

Plus, they had been running through the day as well as the night, and the Orcs hated the daylight just as much as any other of their brethren.

And so, as they grew closer to their destination, now running along the borders of a forest with an incredibly dense layout of gnarled trees, several of the Orcs finally fell to their knees and keeled over, while some of the others stopped to lean on their blades, causing a rather disorganised and stumbling stop to the entire party.

The two Uruks that had been forced to carry the Hobbits were also similarly tired, and Merry and Pippin were quickly jostled from whatever state of dozing they had managed to achieve as the Uruk's pulled them from their shoulders and flung them to the ground; both of them crying out as they hit the grass, the wind briefly knocked out of them.

As the leader Uruk – Uglúk – turned and snarled at them, one of the Orcs half pushed himself up as others around him sank to the ground themselves and snarled, "We're not going no further… 'til we've had a breather!"

Uglúk snarled, but knew that continuing on without them would be counterproductive and knew full well that even his Uruks could do with a rest to keep their energy up. So although he considered using his long bullwhip on the Orcs to force them back to their feet and drive them on, he reluctantly decided that a brief stop would not hurt. They were close to Isengard now anyway.

"Get a fire going!" he roared to the assembled Uruks as most of the rest of the Orcs flopped to the ground, only a couple of them still looking relatively healthy and able to stay on their feet. The Uruk-Hai and some of the fitter Orcs scrambled to obey him, several of them taking out their large single-bladed axes and hurrying towards the edge of the forest to prepare gathering the necessary wood for the flames.

The rest of the Uruks gathered around the Orcs and began to pull out what food they had in their packs. They mostly been eating on the run and the Hobbits themselves had had a little nourishment, but not really enough to stop them from feeling hungry, though they were more than capable of keeping their thoughts off their stomachs, which was quite a feat for a Hobbit actually. Pippin in particular liked to spend a _lot_ of his time eating.

But now he had bigger concerns and hurriedly tried to wriggle towards Merry on his elbows and knees, unable to use his hands properly due to the fact that they were still tied together in front of him and unable to walk because his feet were in the same position. Still, he managed to wriggle forwards towards his fellow Hobbit like a large worm.

"Merry," he hissed, as he drew up alongside the other captive. "Merry!"

Pippin looked into Merry's face worriedly, and it was clear to see that Merry was feeling better, but he was still a little bleary – his eyes rolling around to stare at him for a moment as he took in some ragged breaths, trying and failing to pull his hands out of the thick ropes that bound them. His wound had long since dried, forming a crust of dark red over the side of his face in a single, large, curved scab mark.

"I think…" Merry muttered, locking eyes with Pippin. "…we might have made a mistake… leaving the Shire… Pippin," he murmured, in what was his attempt at a joke. It wasn't particularly amusing given all the other factors around them, but it made Pippin smile for a slight second – glad to see that his friend was still feeling chipper enough to try and be humorous even at a time like this.

The two of them looked around one another for a moment, taking stock of the situation to see if they could escape. The wondered if the Elven cloaks they were both still wearing would do any good, but then realised that they almost certainly wouldn't. The Cloaks were supposed to help them blend into the background – the magic instilled into their weaving allowing them to use them to resemble boulders or bushes from a distance or to blend into the grass, but it was only useful if the people you were trying to avoid had not already spotted you.

And currently they were totally surrounded by growling Uruk-Hai and panting Orcs. There was absolutely no way that either of them were going to get away unnoticed like this. Several of the Uruk-Hai turned to look at them scornfully, sneering at them as they lay there helplessly. With no weapons, limited access to their hands and the Elven Cloaks useless, it truly seemed as though the Hobbits were well and truly stuck with their captors.

The thud of axes nearby drew the attention of both the Hobbits and they saw the squat Orcs and the tall Uruks taking their axes to the trees with practiced efficiency – clearly many of them had done this sort of thing before. There were numerous large, fallen branches that some of the Orcs were hacking up, but some of the others had taken their blades directly to the trees themselves, slamming them into the woody branches or extending roots and send chips of wood flying everywhere.

The axes themselves were too small to really be used to chop down the entire trees, because each one of them was practically a half-twisted monster with a trunk three times as thick as the Uruks themselves, but they were more than capable of cutting off large branches, sometimes having to wrench their axes out when they cut in deeply with their swings.

As they worked, collecting wood for what could probably be at least six large fires, a low moaning sound suddenly began to ring out through the air, almost like the painful call of some type of cow, only even lower and more drawn out… a little eerie like the moaning spirit of some kind of ghost. Both the Hobbits felt their blood curdle a little at the sound, which sounded painful and mournful at the same time, almost as if it _was_ a moaning spirit longing for something.

The Uruks and the Orcs ignored it completely, continuing about their business as if nothing whatsoever could be heard, but Pippin turned to Merry and whispered, "What's making that noise?"

He didn't really expect Merry to know the answer, but Merry pushed himself upwards a little, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look over Pippin at the trees, an expression of awe and slight disbelief on his face.

"It's the trees," he whispered.

Pippin stared at him for a moment as if he'd gone mad, wondering if the head wound had managed to damage him a little more than he had thought. "What?" he breathed.

Merry looked insistently down at him and said, "You remember the Old Forest? On the Borders of Buckland?"

Pippin nodded. He did know that Forest. On the Eastern border of the shire was a large woodland, about a quarter as large as the Shire itself. Buckland itself was not actually part of the Shire and was separated from the rest of it by the Brandywine river – the river which the Hobbits had crossed on the Buckleberry Ferry several months ago in order to escape from the Black Riders which had been pursuing Frodo.

The Hobbits that lived in Buckland were a little bit stouter and less peaceable than the Hobbits of the Shire – not to say they were war-like, far from it, but they were a little more wary of the fact that something could disturb their peaceful lives. They were more prepared for danger.

A lot of the Hobbits that lived in Buckland were members of the Brandybuck family for obvious reasons and one of those Hobbits was Merry.

The Old Forest itself, was a Forest that was right on the Eastern edge of Buckland. It was a wild and ragged mass of large trees much like the forest that they were lying next to right now. It was separated from Buckland by a very large hedge called 'The Hay' which the Hobbits had built to protect their border. Pippin, having been good friends with Merry for a very long time, had seen the Forest on numerous occasions, but nobody really liked to talk about it.

But Merry was talking about it now.

"Folk used to say there was something in the water the made the trees go tall," he whispered in a low, slightly conspiratorial voice. "And come alive!"

"Alive?" hissed Pippin, as another low moaning sound seemed to come out from the Forest and they both turned around to look at it warily out of the corners of their eyes. Trees were all inherently alive anyway, but Pippin knew full well that Merry meant more than 'being a living thing' in this particular context.

"Trees that could whisper," Merry murmured. "Talk to each other… even move…"

Pippin stared at Merry in slight disbelief, but Merry looked deadly serious. And he had good reason to be. Though it was a subject few liked to speak of, Merry had been into the Forest a couple of times himself, but he had never strayed far from The Hay for fear of getting lost.

And he had good reason to fear, for he had seen what others had seen on those visits – the trees swaying when there wasn't any wind, especially at night time. And he had heard similar moaning to that which he was hearing coming from the trees right here and right now, though more quiet and less plaintive.

And though it had happened before Merry had been born, he could remember telling his elders telling him of a time when they had woken up to find several of the trees pressed up right at the edge of The Hay, and practically leaning over the giant hedge as if peering down on them – when they had definitely _not_ been that close the night before.

The Hobbits had panicked and quickly chopped down all of the trees that had come too close, burning them on a giant bonfire, as if hoping to warn the other trees not to try something similar.

And the trees had _not_ taken kindly to that. The Hobbits claimed that they had heard angry groans and had seen the trees shifting violently within the borders of the forest. And though none of the trees had ever gotten as close to The Hay again, they had become more openly hostile to any Hobbit that dared to delve into the depths of the woodland after that. There had been more than one case of a disappearance.

None dared go there for firewood anymore; that was certain.

And now these Orcs and Uruk-Hai were taking the axe to these trees in a similar manner, dragging the bits they had hacked off back to the camp.

As the Hobbits pondering the implications of such talking and moving trees, one of the nearby Uruk-Hai named Mauhúr – with long and wild black hair mottled skin that was almost totally blackish-red and a rather flat nose with permanently flared nostrils and the white imprint of a hand on the right hand side of his neck and face rummaged around in his pack and grunted.

"I'm starving," he grumbled, pulling a dis-shaped lump of something from out of the pack and staring at it balefully. "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for _three stinkin' days!" _ He flung the piece of bread angrily to the ground and stamped on it – the Uruk Hai and Orcs were not usually that picky about what they ate but they were useless at taking care of provisions and keeping them properly contained – meaning that the mould-covered bits of food that they had left had become disgusting even to them.

"Yeah!" proclaimed one of the Orcs in a high nasal voice that suited the long and pointed nose which stuck out of his face like a spearpoint, his mouth opening wide to reveal his long fangs. His face was grey and shrivelled like a potato that had been left out in the Sun too long and his ears were just as long and pointed as his nose.

"Why can't we have some meat!" this Orc, who was named Snaga, demanded, bits of spittle flying from his mouth and easily visible in the light of the moon.

Almost as soon as he had spoken, Snaga's orange-red eyes flicked across towards a certain two Hobbits that were lying on the grass, narrowing as they did so as he fought the urge to lick his lips. The Hobbits seemed to sense his gaze and instead of looking at the trees they found their heads turning towards him. Having overheard his previous demand, their eyes widened in horror. They knew what he was about to suggest before he even suggested it?

"What about them?" Snaga suggested, leering at them and anticipation already growing in his gaze. "They're… fressshhh!" he hissed, more spittle and what looked suspiciously like a drop of black blood being expelled from between his teeth to land on his chin.

The Hobbits felt their hearts stop and then begin to beat faster than ever before as the Orcs around Snaga seemed to gain more of an interest in them, several of them holding wicked looked knives and all of them beginning to salivate slightly as they looked at them. The Hobbits had heard the stories of Orcs eating their victims regardless of what the victim actually was but to be on the end of their interest in such a case was highly horrifying.

Fortunately before any of the Orcs could step forwards, Uglúk pushed his way through some of the other assembled Uruk-Hai and, his mottled face drawn back in a warning snarl and his wide, flat sword already held in one hand. Jabbing a finger in Snaga's direction he snarled, "They are _not _for eating!"

Snaga gave Uglúk a look of contempt and resentment, his head twisted around at a rather unnatural angle as if he was working kinks out of his neck and trying not to snarl and his clacked his teeth together in irritation. Truth be told a lot of these Orcs resented the Uruk-Hai, who believed themselves superior to the Orcs in every way and were actually quite right to think that.

At a signal from Uglúk, another Uruk-Hai grabbed hold of Merry and Pippin by their arms and began to pull them backwards away from the Orcs and away from some of the small campfires that had just been set up, some of the other Uruk-Hai stepping in front of them to form a barrier of their bodies between the Hobbits and the hungry Orcs.

The leader of those hungry Orcs, Grishnáhk, with his low-hanging jaw and his wide, pale blue eyes that stared out of his head like a pair of giant marbles leaned around Uglúk to get a good look at the pair of them as the Uruk that was holding them set them on their feet, despite the fact that their bound ankles. The Orc's interest in the Hobbits had been peaked, as had the interest of most of the Orcs.

"What about their legs?" Grishnáhk suggested, in his low grunting voice that sounded like it was coming from the back of his throat and his neck clicking several times as he cocked his head to one side. "They don't need those."

Merry actually looked down at his legs for a second, as if imagining what it would be like to be without them before his eyes returned to join Pippin's in staring at the Orc chieftain fearfully. Neither of them liked the thought, but Grishnáhk evidently did, a sadistic grin of delight appearing on his face.

"Ooh, they look tasty," he smirked and immediately started forwards.

Almost instantly Uglúk intercepted him and snarled, "Get back, scum!" seizing him by the shoulder and hauling the Orc practically into the air to send him stumbling backwards, flinging out his arms to steady himself and splaying his legs, a growl of irritation now present on his face. The contact between the two had an electric effect on the rest of the party and the Orcs and Uruks that had still been mingled together instantly separated into two distinct parties, with the Orcs on one and the Uruks on the other, the Hobbits surrounded by the Uruk-Hai.

The Orcs brandished their weapons angrily, hissing and spitting lividly, scrabbling up on either side of Grishnáhk with their blades raised and practically bouncing in preparation for a fight to start. A couple of the Uruk-Hai roared their own warnings and held their own, longer blades out as a barrier, Uglúk pointing his own directly at Grishnáhk's chest before the Orc could step forward again.

"The prisoners go to Saruman," Uglúk enforced, with an air of haughtiness in his guttural voice at being in charge of such an important operation. "Alive… and unspoiled!"

"Alive?" Grishnáhk scoffed, his head cocking from side to side in a rather disturbing way before he leaned practically his entire body to the side, allowing him to look past Uglúk at the two now rather terrified Hobbits without his right foot even leaving the position that it had been in.

"Why alive?" he asked, leaning back. "Do they give good sport?" he asked, wringing his hands at the prospect and gnashing his teeth, his tongue flicking out as he made unintelligible gibbering noises of anticipation. Both of the Hobbits frowned and felt a bit sick – neither of them were exactly sure what Grishnáhk even meant by that question but they both knew already that they didn't want to find out the answer.

"They have something," Uglúk declared in response, an arrogant snarl on his face. "An Elvish weapon. The Master wants if for the war!"

Grishnáhk looked intrigued and yet malignant at the same time, pulling his head back into his shoulders like a snake about to strike.

The two Hobbits however, frowned at Uglúk's words, not entirely sure what he was talking about. But neither they nor the Uruk-Hai were aware of the fact that the grey-skinned Orc, Snaga, had actually managed to sneak around the Uruks without being noticed and was approaching the two Hobbits from behind through the Uruk's ranks – the Uruk-Hai too focused on the rest of the Orcs to pay him any attention and his long tongue snaking out as he held his curved knife ready and kept closer.

Suddenly Pippin figured out what Uglúk meant and whispered to Merry, "They think we have the Ring."

"Ssssshhh," Merry hissed at him, locking eyes with him warningly. "As soon as they find out we don't, were dead."

Snaga crept in closer behind them, thankfully not hearing just what they had just said and rearing up right behind them. "Just a mouthful," he declared, causing both the Hobbits and Uglúk to whirl around to face him, the former staring up at him with wide and fearful eyes as he raised his blade high and added, "A bit off the flank."

Pippin gasped and the two Hobbits turned away to cringe, but Snaga's eyes suddenly widened and he let out a fearful squeak of his own as Uglúk barrelled towards him with inhumane speed and swung his sword with a brutal force right over the heads of the Hobbits. Grishnáhk snarled in fury and the Hobbits gasped as Snaga's head bounced off Merry's shoulder and landed with a thump in front of them.

The both of them whipped around to see Snaga's headless and very dead body still standing for another moment before it keeled over to the side and thumped to the ground in a heap of splayed limbs.

Uglúk grinned even as Grishnáhk snarled, looking down at the separated head and body of the Orc before he fiercely declared…

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

The Uruks roared their appreciation, thrusting their arms and weapons into the air and baring their chests. Mauhúr, the Uruk that initially started the complaining, let off a particularly gleeful roar. The Hobbits, on the other hand, froze – momentarily thinking that the Uruks were talking about them, before they were suddenly seized and jostled roughly out of the way by the Uruks behind them, crashing to the ground on their fronts.

The both of them turned back to look over their shoulders as the Uruks piled past them and immediately wished that they hadn't, for the Uruks had immediately set on the body of Snaga with a terrible ferocity, and though they could thankfully see nothing thanks to the screen the Uruks made with their own bodies, they could hear the horrible gut-twisting sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones, and one of the Uruks tossed what could only be a piece of intestine over his shoulder.

Pippin in particular felt the urge to throw up at this display of cannibalism. The Uruks and Orcs were different species but they were still all of the Orcish breed and yet they had set on their own without hesitation. Even Uglúk was piling in.

Some of the Orcs, including Grishnáhk and a couple of others, snarled with rage and charge forwards. Several more of the Uruk-Hai immediately charged at them and dived upon the group, pushing some of the Orcs to the ground under their superior weight and bringing their blades up to finish the jobs.

The rest of the Orcs looked ready to charge forwards themselves, but the rest of the Uruks immediately closed in and formed a line between them and their comrades, holding out their arms to either side to form a physical barrier that the Orcs hesitated to pass, keeping them away from the other Uruks that were busy gutting and filleting the dead or dying Orcs behind them.

It was at this point that Merry noticed that suddenly, they were on the edge of the group. In their eagerness to get at the meat, the Uruk-Hai seemed to have completely forgotten about them. This was one aspect of them that was _not_ superior to that of their Orc brethren. The promise of flesh had driven all other thoughts from their minds as they mindlessly set on their supposed comrades.

"Pippin," Merry hissed. "Let's go," he jerked his head in the direction of the thick trees, and he started forwards as best he could on his front, not wanted to risk pushing himself up and drawing attention to them.

Pippin quickly caught on and wriggled beside him, pushing themselves forwards with their elbows and toes and hoping that the Elven cloaks would keep them from being noticed and ignoring the wailing screech of another Orc behind them as its body was pierced by the blade of the Uruk pushing it to the ground.

However, they _had_ been noticed by one individual, who had spotted them even before they started trying to crawl away and made after them. Though the Hobbits made a surprising distance of about thirty metres, a heavy boot suddenly descended on Merry's shoulder-blade and forced him into the ground with a yelp.

Pippin rolled over, wide-eyed and staring face and bared teeth of Grishnáhk – somehow the Orc Captain had managed to evade the Uruks that had jumped on or blocked his brethren and made after the fleeing Hobbits. Grishnáhk leaned over, keeping Merry firmly pinned to the ground and he loomed over Pippin's face with his own.

"Go on," he sneered, his wide eyes looking quite mad. "Call for help." He suddenly lashed down and grabbed Pippin's face in his left hand, squeezing his cheeks painfully as he hauled his head up until it was within inches of his face.

"Squeal!" he practically instructed the terrified Hobbit, lifting up the hook of his curved sword and holding it before Pippin's eyes. "No-one's gonna save you now," he leered, raising the blade and clenching his teeth, readying the blow.

That was the point where a long, wooden spear suddenly lanced out of nowhere and struck Grishnáhk in the left side, just above his hip. The Orc Captain let off an unearthly shriek and released Pippin's face, toppling to the ground between the two Hobbits and clutching at his side, his weight coming off Merry's back as the two Hobbits sat up, eyes searching for their saviour.

It hadn't been any of the Uruks. Or the Orcs. None of them had even noticed the altercation going on thirty feet away, but at Grishnáhk's shriek they finally started paying attention, their heads shooting up and looking around them for a threat.

And that threat was on them almost immediately when about twenty horses suddenly loomed out of the darkness to the West, each bearing Men with long blond hair and helmets, armed with swords and more of the long, wooden spears and they charged down on the Uruk ranks.

Taken by surprised the Uruks and Orcs turned and ran instantly, scattering in all directions before the horses as the man at the helm – a tall Man with a horse-tail plume falling from the back of his helmet, led the assault by flinging his own massive spear, which shot through the air to crash into the shoulder of one of the Uruk-Hai and fell him with a horrible grunt of pain.

Some of the bolder Uruks tried to charge in and face them, brandishing their tall, metal shields but the horses were too agile and flattened them to the ground or bowled them out the way before they could even hope to swing their weapons and soon the horses and their riders were amongst the Uruk-Hai on mass, creating absolute chaos and… in no time flat… even drawing level with the Hobbits.

"Pippin!" Merry yelled as the hooves crashed down all around them, the two Hobbits rolling close together and away from the groaning Grishnáhk, trying to scramble away, hearts hammering in their chests as they realised they had no idea which way to go, for now there were horses on all sides and the slamming feet or fleeing and scrambling Orcs and Uruks, creating a confusing jumble in any direction they turned their heads.

A nearby horseman swung his sword down and cleaved it through the chest of one of the Uruks which was practically flung into the air with the force of the blow and landed right next to the two Hobbits.

The rest of the Uruks and Orcs were scrambling away, trying to make good their escape, but they soon found that was futile because suddenly another large group of horsemen were charging in from the other direction, cutting off their escape route completely in a perfect ambush from both sides. Some of the horsemen had long silken banners attached to their spears, but neither Merry nor Pippin could make out what was on them in the light of the Moon, nor did they care.

What had been chaos promptly became practically lunacy as Uruks were thrown to the ground beneath horses hooves and Orcs were slashed and cleaved by sword and axe of the horsemen, or vice versa. And then the front lines of the horsemen met each other but the horses did not, for with expert skill and precision the horsemen steered around each other, their ranks interlacing as they dashed around each other.

Now the entire camp was a mass of horses and with absolutely no discernible rank between the two factions. Pippin rolled over and saw a man hit and Uruk in the stomach with an axe so hard that the Uruk was sent flying into another, and the horse the Man was riding dashed past another horse coming the other way. The Man on this horse raised his spear and slammed it straight through the shoulder of Mauhúr the Uruk, eliciting a horrible screeching noise as the spear protruded out the other side and he collapsed to the ground in a staggered heap.

Everything was complete anarchy now and the forces of Isengard obviously didn't stand a chance, for the horses that had gone past them were turning around and coming back for another pass.

Another sword-stroke from a passing Man saw another body fall next to Merry. And one horseman came riding forwards with his hands totally off the reigns and holding a bow and arrow, trusting the horse to run the right way as he pulled the arrow back and shot it straight into an Orc between its shoulder blades, causing it to crash to the ground with a thump. The man drew another arrow and twisted his body around to fire again, the arrows thudding into the stomach of another Orc that he had just run past, ripping the air out of the Orc's lungs as it keeled over, spasming frequently in its death-throes.

Another Uruk's head was separated from its shoulder by an axe stroke, and its companion received another axe to the gut from the horse coming the other was, its body crumpling as the horse went on to plough another into the ground. Bodies were falling everywhere and a couple of them… belonged to the Men.

Uglúk was not prepared to take this lying down and he had been made the chieftain of the Uruk-Hai for a reason after the death of Lurtz. Hefting his sword and his bullwhip alike, he had managed to roll aside to avoid being ploughed over by a horse, right before he lashed out with the whip which curled around the neck of the rider before he could get out of reach, yanking him out of the saddle with a throttled choking noise to crash onto his back. Uglúk leapt on him and stabbed downwards into his gut, ending his life instantly and making him the first of the horsemen to perish.

Uglúk spun around as another horseman bore down on him with a raised axe, swinging it down towards the Uruk's face, but Uglúk lashed out with his sword and slammed the axe aside, knocking it out of the nerveless grip of the rider but the Uruk lashed out and seized him by the arm, physically hauling him from the horse's back and slamming him down to the ground head-first, arcing his sword down to finish the job.

The Uruk ran forwards and into the fray once more, snarling furiously.

Somehow, miraculously, the Hobbits had not been stamped on yet by any of the horses. They didn't appear to have been noticed by the riders thanks to their Elven cloaks even as they flailed around on the ground, trying to find some kind of headway in the melee, but whenever a horse crashed towards them it would suddenly veer around them before it could stamp on them, or in one case it leapt right over them. It was as if the horses could sense that there was something there which they did _not_ want to step on and dutifully avoided it, often to the surprise of the rider.

Whether this was some kind of magic of the cloak or these horses were just really perceptive the Hobbits would never figure out. But they scrambled on, just as one of the other Uruks was felled by a sword and landed in front of them.

That was when Uglúk ran forwards and cracked his whip forwards to hit the horse of the rider that had struck the blow against that Uruk in the hindquarters. The animal squealed and reared up, right over Pippin, throwing the rider off its back as it did so – flailing and kicking at the air with its forelimbs. Pippin rolled onto his back and screamed as he beheld the sight of the horse high above him and the hooves slammed down towards him.

If Pippin had been a fraction of a second slower as he rolled furiously to the side the horse would have stomped him into the ground, Elven cloak magic or horse perception totally irrelevant in its panicked state. Pippin crawled away as the horse bolted off, Uglúk stamping over nearby to finish off the rider that had been thrown from the horse. Pippin searched around wildly for Merry and saw him struggling a short distance away – another horse dashing past his head.

As for Uglúk, he spun around and ducked under the axe swing of the next horseman to speed past him and spun around to cut another in the side, causing him to yell and fall sideways off his mount as the Uruk-Hai set upon him furiously, killing his fourth horseman of the day. But as he stood up and turned to face his next opponent, he beheld the man with the horse-tail plume bearing down towards him, a steely glint in his eye as he raised his sword.

Though Uglúk did not know who he was looking at for himself, the Man in question was in fact Éomer, the nephew of the King of Rohan who had, only yesterday, been banished from the lands of Rohan by the whim of that slimy advisor, Gríma Wormtongue. This was his company – the enormous number of Riders that had all been banished with him, and they had been making their way north as per the terms of their agreement to leave Rohan's lands when they had overheard the Uruks and come bearing down on top of them.

Uglúk snarled and charged towards Éomer as Éomer bore down towards him with blade raised. Uglúk lashed out with his whip, but Éomer thrust out his other arm and the whip wrapped around that instead of hitting in the face. Uglúk sneered and made to pull Éomer forwards, but Éomer beat him to it and sprang off the back of his horse, wrenching his arm backwards and out to the side as he did so. Uglúk, not letting go of the other end, was brought stumbling forwards and lost his footing.

But before he could either fall or regain it, Éomer had slashed through his chest and ended his life, dropping him to the ground. Éomer stabbed his sword through the dead Uruk's chest to make sure that it really was dead, before his horse trotted back to him and he leapt back into the saddle less than ten seconds after he'd jumped off and rode back into battle.

It was a complete massacre now for the Uruks and Orcs with over three-quarters of their number already dead. And the Hobbits were still very much alive and in fact, were doing better than ever. Pippin had found and axe with an upturned blade lodged into the ground and was madly sawing through the bonds on his hands. They parted with a snap and he hurried rolled over to pull at the bonds on his feet, which quickly came undone beneath his fingers.

Pippin hurriedly pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little unsteadily for a moment before he hurried over to Merry and threw himself down beside him, scrabbling at the rope around Merry's ankles as well in an effort to get them undone.

"Hurry, Pippin! Hurry!" Merry whispered urgently.

"I'm doing it!" Pippin whispered back, succeeding in getting the thick rope off before moving onto Merry's hands and yanking at the thick knot as the horses continued to dash all around them, the riders seemingly still totally oblivious to their presence and even almost looking through them. It seemed that there was indeed some magic in the Elven Cloaks after all.

It took about half a minute but Pippin managed to get Merry untied and they hauled each other to their feet and took off into the chaos, able to move much better with all of their limbs now free.

The horses stomped and Uruks and Orcs fell around them as the Hobbits zig-zagged this way and that, trying to find a safe way through, but almost immediately running almost straight into a horse, which skittered about a little at their presence.

Pippin, in another bold display of idiocy on his part, for which he was becoming renowned, ducked right through the horse's legs – his small frame able to pass underneath with only a lowered head – and dashed onwards, or tried to, but he had to quickly roll out of the way to avoid the body of another Uruk that was flung at him crashed to the ground where he had been standing. Merry, surprisingly, had actually followed Pippin through the legs of the same horse and was also almost hit by the body.

Another Uruk-Hai tried to slash at the rider on the horse they had ran beneath but the rider slashed it across the neck and its body spun to the ground and almost landed on Merry as well. But the Hobbit kept his senses and grabbed Pippin, pulling him in the direction of the trees and the two of them made a break for it through the commotion.

With most of the enemy now dead, the horses seemed to be calming down and the running was a little easier. But, right as they drew closer to the trees, something suddenly seized Merry by the back of his belt and tried to pull him backwards. He looked back and to his horror, he saw that it was Grishnáhk. The Orc Captain had pulled the spear out of his side and was clutching the wound, but had managed to crawl after them and was screeching furiously as he tried to pull Merry backwards with one hand.

"The belt!" Merry cried and quickly unhooked it, jerking away and running off with Pippin alongside him as Grishnáhk stared at the belt left in his hand, snarling angrily and slamming it to the ground before crawling in pursuit, pushing himself up to his feet to pursue the Hobbits.

But the Hobbits were no longer looking. "Run!" Merry shouted as they bolted towards the trees, not bothering to turn back and see Grishnáhk staggering after them. All that mattered was that they reached the trees and got to safety and finally, _finally_, they did.

The two Hobbits practically hurled themselves into the bushes and pushed themselves into the foliage, dashing and dodging between the trunks, ducking under branches and generally just haring along almost willy-nilly, escape the only thing on their minds. They fled away from Éomer and the horsemen and they fled away from Grishnáhk.

But even as the horsemen began to totally calm their mounts and bring the battle furore down once more, Grishnáhk also stumbled into the forest. He was the last surviving member of the party – every single other Orc and Uruk now dead. But he didn't care about that right now. All that he cared about was finding those two Hobbits. Letting them get away was _not_ an option but although he had lost sight of the their scent was still in the air. And so, he too plunged through the trees, pursuing them into the night.

* * *

Some distance away, Shoutmon looked up from where he had been sleeping, his eyes narrowing. "That's funny," he murmured. "I thought I heard something… something like… the sound of a battle going on in the distance."

Gandalf, who had also been dozing, was roused by Shoutmon's words. "I heard nothing," he announced. "But I believe… that perhaps if you did indeed hear something… it could be the start of what we have been waiting for."

* * *

Yes, I know that most of that scene with the Uruks and the Orcs and Merry and Pippin was another bit taken directly from the movie, but this is the very last very big chunk that will be, since this is that last major event that will take place without the intervention of any of the Digimon. There will be other smaller scenes in the future that are exactly the same before a Digimon shows up and starts changing things, like normal, but they will be a lot smaller than this one was.

Nevertheless I hope you liked it and I hope you liked that bit I did between Uglúk and Éomer in the battle. We didn't see in the move how Uglúk got killed so I thought I would do my own spin on it and tie it in with the rearing horse that almost stamped on Pippin, because I had to wonder why a horse would rear like that in the middle of a battle anyway, so I thought that the whip of an Uruk could have been the cause. Hehe.

See you soon. Probably Thursday with a new QOTG update.

* * *

Next time…

After a long journey in the company of the Elves, Lillymon and the Monitamon finally find sanctuary at the court of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, who is most interested in these newcomer to his forest. And on a similar journey not that far away, Knightmon and his group arrive at Erebor to meet with another pair of monarchs.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 32 : In the Presence of Kings**


	32. In the Presence of Kings

Hello everybody. This chapter, like many of the others, is later than I would have liked it to be, but here it is now, the ninth chapter this month with only two days to spare to make the tenth. I shall indeed get the next chapter of QOTG out on Sunday, but for now I hope your enjoy this actionless but still necessary chapter. Contains spoilers for the Hobbit if you haven't read the book.

To the string of guest reviewers that I cannot reply to via PM, I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and yes, Mervamon and Beelzemon will probably end up having a Digi-Egg. But not in this story. It'll be a long time before the two of them even see each other again in this story. But in a long-distant sequel… yep. More than likely.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 32:- In the Presence of Kings**

* * *

Lillymon awoke from her deep sleep feeling more refreshed than she had in days. Secure in the middle of a heavily armed Elven campsite as she was, she felt much safer than she had since she'd got into this horrible woodland – Mirkwood as their new companions had called it. A very appropriate name if she said so herself.

Tauriel, the Elf that had rescued her from those terrible Giant Spiders, had told her that once this place was known as the Greenwood, and it had been lush and full of life – much more so than it did now anyway. It had been a wonderful woodland and in places it still very much was. But apparently in recent years (for Elves, which meant it was a _long_ time ago for Men), a shadow had fallen over the wood and begun to cast its dark magic and sickness through it.

And though that shadow had long since been driven out and the sickness driven out, a vast amount of the darkness the shadow's caster had brought over the wood still had not been lifted. And it had been over sixty years since that time now.

"It still breaks my heart to see my beloved home like this," Tauriel had said, looking around at the dark and grasping trees. "It once bright and vibrant – the ideal home for any Wood Elf such as myself to live in, and everywhere you looked there would be birds and foxes and hedgehogs and deer and flowers of all colours. It was paradise, second only to the Golden Wood of Lothlórien to the West of here. Nowadays it is a brave animal that dares to cross into this territory, and the name Mirkwood… it never seemed appropriate to turn it back to Greenwood."

"It is still green," Lillymon offered.

"Yes," Tauriel nodded. "But it is the murk that you notice most, is it not?"

Lillymon couldn't argue with that. She certainly couldn't imagine living here and since she was a plant Digimon, _that_ was saying something.

"You know, I used to live in a place called the _Green_ Zone," Lillymon said. "It was mostly grassland instead of forest but it was also a place full of life."

"What happened to it?" Tauriel asked.

"It merged with all the other Zones to complete the Digital World once again," Lillymon replied. Tauriel looked utterly blank, so she sighed and said, "Well… nothing really. It's still there. But I decided to move with my friends to the castle of King Shoutmon. And there was a time when it was under threat of evil… there was even a time when it _was_ taken over by evil and it became a part of the larger Dragon Land. But it was liberated and all traces of evil eradicated."

"Then you were luckier than we," Tauriel grimaced. "We have never been able to get rid of the Giant Spiders that have flourished in our woodland over the last half a decade, and it certainly isn't for lack of trying. Despite out efforts, we have never been able to find their Queen and slay her, and she would be the one that produces most, if not all of the offspring. Wherever she's been hiding herself all these years, it's well hidden and far from our own lands. And because of our failure in killing her, it seems there is always a Spider to replace the one we just killed."

"You think that taking her out would help to eradicate them all from your home?" Lillymon asked.

"It would certainly help. It would take a long time before a Spider female could become a Queen naturally on their own. That much I do know. But other than that we have no knowledge or intelligence on the Spider Queen whatsoever."

"Well… I know her name," Lillymon shuddered. "Queen Saenathra I believe. And I know that I was being taken to her… though I don't know more than that."

"Well, the Spiders were going south-west when they were taking you," muttered Tauriel. "In the direction of the dark fortress of Dol Guldur, where the shadow that infected our woodland took up residence all those years ago. That's not so surprising. We've long suspected that the Spider stronghold would be close to that fortress… but it had been long since any Elf dared to tread that close."

"I wish I could help," Lillymon muttered, tracing a finger across the ground. "But… I'm not very strong."

"Not very strong?" Tauriel almost snorted. "What are you talking about? I do not know what you did back there exactly but you blasting those Spiders with those… projectiles of yours and decimated any one that you hit? How can you not be strong?"

"I have a fair amount of power," Lillymon admitted. "But I'm really not a fighter. Most of the time I just… point and shoot and hope for the best. Although I did once throw the two Bombmon into the face of an opponent. That was perhaps the most inventive I've ever gotten, and it was partly the Bombmons' idea. Most of the other Digimon in the party are much stronger than I am, or at least far better warriors or different skills. I doubt many of them would have been caught by the Spiders like I was. Sometimes I think… I'm just… a wallflower really."

Tauriel resisted the urge to smirk at the slight pun because she could see Lillymon looked quite dejected about this, so she reached out and placed a hand over Lillymon's. She hadn't known the small flower fairy for very long, but she was finding her to be very pleasant company and didn't want to see her upset."

"I like to think that I can recognise a fighter when I see one," she said. "And I think that you certainly have the potential. Perhaps you just need to convince yourself that you can be."

Lillymon smiled lightly, mildly comforted. But she still hadn't told Tauriel the real reason why she was upset about not being strong. That was something she had long kept to herself and if it wasn't for the fact that Shoutmon deserved a strong Queen, she probably would never had thought twice about not being a strong battler.

Still, she had spent a nice time at the Elven Camp, with the three Monitamon nearby mingling amongst the other Elves and examining pieces of equipment and showing the Elves video-clips from their heads. The Elves were fascinated by the three little guys and kept trying to figure out what the images were and what 'magic' powered it. One of them had tried to place his hand into the video but only succeeded in pushed the Monitamon over, with numerous gracious apologies immediately following.

The Elves were careful. They had lit fires in a large circle around the campsite, carefully making sure that none of them could spread to the forest and only using fallen branches and sticks instead of cutting anything loose, and even asking the tree's permission to use the sticks that they picked up. Never once did Lillymon see the trees make any sign that they knew what was being asked of them, but apparently the Elves either did or were placated merely in the fact they had asked.

For this forest was not like Fangorn – the trees here did not move and speak with one another of their own free will. To all intents and purposes, they were ordinary, albeit dark-looking, trees.

Not that Lillymon knew anything about Fangorn of course. And if she did, then she still would not know that the object of her affections and the reason she was upset about not being very strong was, right at this moment, in that forest.

Anyway, the Elves lit the fires as the darkness moved in, keeping it at bay and ensuring the camp stayed brightly lit at all times, with dancing and flickering light that made it seem almost ethereal. The darkness around them almost seemed to congeal and try and advance in on the flames, or perhaps that was just Lillymon's imagination. But whichever it was it did not get past the lights.

And with several Elves still standing guard in case of Spider attack, Lillymon drifted off to sleep. While the fires on the ground would probably keep any Spiders at bay from its level, there was nothing to stop them from clambering up the trees and jumping over or lowering themselves down on their silk lines. And the Elves would take no chances at being caught unawares in this manner.

That was why Lillymon felt so much safer the previous night and why she awoke in the morning, feeling much better.

Normally the Elves would have left by now, but out of respect for the trials that Lillymon had been put through they had allowed her to lie in for a bit until Tauriel eventually shook her awake and they were able to continue onwards.

"The halls of King Thranduil are not much further," she said. "We should be there in a couple of hours if we move at a fast pace."

* * *

And so they moved off, with Elves bounding over the fallen branches at somewhere between a jog and a run – something which you could probably call a canter if they had been horses. Lillymon kept pace with them in the air with ease, and the Monitamon were kept busy bounding from tree to tree, but they could still keep up.

And so it was that they made excellent progress through the forest and indeed, Lillymon was beginning to notice a nice change in the scenery around them. The woods were becoming less dense and certainly less dark, with spaces emerging in the canopy and allowing increasingly wide beams of light to shoot down to the forest floor and illuminate the surrounding area. The trees became less warped and gnarled looking and more fresh and alive than they had been at any point that Lillymon had seen it.

She was also rejoicing in the fact that her wing had now fully healed. A night of rest had allowed the wing to finish up its natural Digital healing process and it had straightened out, the fold that had been preventing her from flying at maximum speed during the spider ambush now totally gone. If her wing had not been damaged then perhaps they could have gotten so much further than they had when the four Digimon had been walking in the forest alone.

She couldn't resist having a little fun with it, whooping aloud as she rolled between a pair of branches and slalomed wildly around some of the trees, swooping down towards the ground to tap the top of Tauriel's head with her fingers a couple of times before swooping back up to seize the branch of another tree and flip herself into several somersaults over the top of it, plunging into free-fall for a few seconds before he wings started up again.

It had been a long time since she'd been able to have a nice, thrilling flight like this in the middle of a forest, dodging trees and jumping branches so haphazardly. And as worried as she was for everyone else, she couldn't help but enjoy herself.

The Elves down below were impressed with her aeronautical skill – she was practically as agile as a dragonfly despite her much larger size. They'd never seen anything quite like her in all their lives and most of them had led very _long_ lives indeed.

Eventually there came a point where one of the Elves ran over to Tauriel and murmured to her – "We are approaching the stronghold now, Captain. Should we call those Digimon down and blindfold them so that they don't know the way from here?"

Tauriel gave him a slightly scathing look. "They're not prisoners. They're allies and we'll treat them as such. Besides, they're already totally lost without us. And how would you even go about blindfolding those Monitamon? They don't even have eyes. At least not visible ones."

"But King Thranduil…"

"Never mind about that," Tauriel hushed him. "This is my decision and Thranduil has given no orders to the contrary."

"Yes, Captain," the Elf relented, and fell back into line.

* * *

It was not long before the company found themselves in the largest open space in the forest yet – a single straight road that seemed to stretch between the trees from horizon to horizon in both directions – the forest hemming them in. The Elves paused on the edge of this path to make sure there was nothing on it before they continued over it and back into the woods, followed by the Digimon.

Shortly after that they came to a bridge – a rope bridge with wooden slats stretching across it that hung over a canyon that was neither narrow nor particularly wide, a gushing, swirling river down beneath it, though notably not very far down since the canyon was not that deep either.

The Elves moved into single file and crossed it swiftly and steadily, Lillymon hovering beside them and the Monitamon nimbly running across the rope banisters of the bridge… although nimbly might be a strong word because they stopped to wobble precariously a couple of times and one of them fell off, resulting in Lillymon having to catch him before he plunged into the river.

After that, the Elves slowed to a walk as they moved on through the forest and… after a short while, Lillymon began to feel the presence of eyes watching her and looked around nervously for the source. It took her several moments to spot them but she eventually became aware of the other Elves hidden in the shadows of the trees and barely shifting, like statues every one of them, with an arrow nocked to the strings of their bows but not pulling them back.

They were wary and most of them were looking right at her.

Lillymon swallowed. "Um… Tauriel?" she asked. "Is there… some reason there are Elves in the trees scrutinising me?"

"I sent word ahead of our arrival with that brambling," Tauriel replied. "I told the King that I would be bringing some strange, never before seen beings with me. It seems as though his Majesty has taken precautions."

Lillymon bit her lip nervously but moved on, sticking close to Tauriel. The Monitamon stumbled along in the middle of the Elf scouting party, trying to look inconspicuous… without making it look like they were trying to be inconspicuous. And they weren't really doing the best job of it.

Eventually, they came upon a large, steep hill in the middle of the forest – not quite steep enough to be called a cliff but still pretty steep. And Lillymon was bemused to see what looked like a large pair of wooden doors, more like a giant gate really, set into the side of that very steep hill. She hesitated, but proceeded on, sensing rather than seeing the Elves all around them draw in closer behind them as if attempting to hem her in slightly.

The party stopped before the gates and Lillymon lowered herself to the ground, bringing her wings to a stand-still. The Monitamon crowded in behind her and peered around her and Tauriel's legs as Tauriel herself placed a hand over her heart and bowed to the doors. After a moment of nothing, the doors began to slowly open as if they had been automatically triggered to, sliding outwards from the middle and creating a steadily widening hole into the interior of the hill.

Lillymon blinked when she saw a bunch more Elves riding outwards slowly, most of them on the backs of horses – beautiful horses with ornate reigns and flicking tails, while the Elves themselves were covered in intricately forged and decorative armour, as opposed to the armour Tauriel wore which was smaller and more practical.

But right at the head of the group was an Elf with long, blond hair riding a massive Elk – not that Lillymon actually knew what the creature with the massive antlers was. The Elf was not clad in armour but in long light blue robes and if that didn't mark who he was alone he was also wearing a delicate looking wooden crown around the back of his head, made up of thorny looking twigs and leaves.

The Elves in the scouting party all fell to one knee to bow before the mighty looking Elf and Lillymon felt like she ought to do the same, but didn't because she really wasn't sure what she was meant to do. The Elf King stopped and regarded her with a level stare, causing Lillymon to perform something like an awkward curtsy instead, which made her feel embarrassed but was better than nothing.

The Monitamon, on the other hand, had thrown themselves on their faces and were mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "Mercy. Don't kill us," into the dirt.

The Elven King continued staring at Lillymon for some time, taking in her flower-adorned head and her leaf-like wings most of all, as if he was going through a list of every creature of Middle Earth that he knew in his head and attempting to match each one of them with the one standing in front of him. When he came up with a blank, he spoke for the first time and said, "Arise, my good Elves."

Tauriel and the others clambered to their feet. Tauriel placed a hand over her heart again and said, "My King, Thranduil son of Oropher, as you can see we have returned. We have delved deeper into the darker parts of the woodland than we have in the last two years and found it to be steadily worsening once more. The Spider numbers appear to be on the rise again and it is only a matter of time until they begin to cross over our borders once again. War may soon be coming as we feared."

"That is grave," Thranduil nodded, the Elk tossing its head slightly. "But it is something that I would concern myself with later. What I would rather like to know now is why you have brought strange creatures such as these directly to our front gate."

"I can explain that, my Lord," Tauriel assured him.

"Please do," Thranduil nodded. "For I have not given my permission yet for these being to enter our land and yet you have brought them here anyway. You know it is a crime to enter the realm of King Thranduil without my express permission."

"A crime?" Lillymon asked, alarmed. "You didn't mention that, Tauriel."

"It is no crime, surely, my Lord," Tauriel protested. "I have given my own judgement on the matter and deemed these creatures to be trustworthy. More than trustworthy in fact, but they are certainly allies of the Elven people."

"You should still have waited for me to message back with my permission," Thranduil stated.

"And under normal circumstances, your Highness, I would have," Tauriel assure him. "Certainly if these beings were Dwarf or Man then I would have made them wait with no hesitation. But their situation is as unique as they are I took the initiative in bringing them straight here."

Thranduil pursed his lips, considering Tauriel's words for several moments before he slowly nodded. "Very well," he said. "Then I will hear the story. You always were one for taking the initiative and following what you felt to be right, Tauriel. Still, had it occurred to you that this could be some intelligent scheme by the Enemy?"

"They certainly do not resemble minions of the Enemy to me, sire," pointed out Tauriel.

"Neither did Sauron when he presented himself to the Elves of West during the Second Age and taught them many new magics. Including the art of Ring making. I know for I even encountered him once when I lived in Lindon during the Second Age under the servitude of Gil-Galad while my father was still the King here in Mirkwood, then the Greenwood. He presented himself to us in the form of Anatar, the bearer of Gifts, but Gil-Galad was wise enough to deny him entrance to Lindon. It is unfortunate the Elves of Eregion, whom he turned his attention to afterwards, did not do the same."

"I understand that, my lord," Tauriel nodded. "And I also understand this could well be a plot by the enemy… no offence to you Lillymon for I do believe that it isn't…"

"Um… none taken I suppose," Lillymon said, though she did look a little bit miffed. "Dark times call for caution and all."

"Yes… but as I was saying, I certainly do not think that either Lillymon or the Monitamon are our true enemies. For one, I encountered the three Monitamon here and they begged me to save Lillymon here, who was then trapped by the Spiders and being taken in the direction of the Queen. I heard the Spiders say so themselves before I mounted the rescue."

"Indeed?" Thranduil raised a brow. "Well… the enemy is known for his cunning, as is many of his subordinates. The possibility of this being a very elaborate trap cannot be ruled out. They could be still be spies."

"How did you know we were spies?" one of the Monitamon suddenly asked, not quite understanding the full extent of Thranduil's words and automatically making the situation much worse. The Elves around them all instantly raised their bows, even many of the ones that had been in the patrol group that journeyed with them, a forest of arrows pointing at them from every direction.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Lillymon cried. "You could hit Tauriel!"

"I doubt it," Tauriel replied. "Most of us here could hit a bird's eye if we needed to."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Lillymon shook her head. "Lower your weapons everyone."

"That creature just admitted that it was a spy," Thranduil glared. "You really think that we are fool enough to let you get away after this?"

"No, no, no," Lillymon waved her arms, stepping in front of the Monitamon protectively. "He didn't mean that he was a spy of your enemies – he meant that he was a spy in general."

"A spy in general?" Thranduil blinked. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means that spying is what the Monitamon do. It's what they're best at – gathering information and listening in on enemy plans and staying out of sight. But they don't do spy work for evil people. They spy _on_ the bad people for the good people. Their skills were useful lots of times back where we come from when our own world was invaded by the forces of darkness. You can trust them."

A couple of the Elves looked uncertain, and Thranduil didn't look entirely convinced, though he did look as if he was considering Lillymon's words.

"…It is true that a servant of the Enemy would rarely come in the flower-like guise as you do," he muttered. "Most of them hate the beauty of nature in all its forms and can only just stand to look upon it only if they can destroy it afterwards. Yet, if you are beings of the light, then you must understand our reasons for being cautious. For beings such as yourselves to suddenly appear in our forest as the darkness gathers… it is suspicious in the extreme. The Spiders were the last things to appear in our woods when that happened."

"It is not our fault that we were put here," Lillymon protested.

"Then who's fault was it?"

"I'm… not entirely sure… but I think that the Code Crown had something to do with it, though that won't mean much to you… um… I really don't know how to explain it but you have my word that we're not your enemies. Those Spiders… they really freak me out."

"Big time," one of the Monitamon agreed.

"Oh yeah," said another.

"I got the willies," put in a third.

Thranduil was deliberating about what to do, but the Elves around him were no more relaxed than before – they were waiting on his word alone. But, just as Thranduil opened his mouth to give his verdict, or possibly to ask another question, there was an urgent twittering from nearby as something small and black came zinging out of absolutely nowhere and shot down towards Lillymon, making her yelp in fear as it hit her in the shoulder.

She almost stumbled backwards, thinking it to be an arrow, but she suddenly saw out the corner of her eye that it was a bird. A small bird with a short forked tail that was almost entirely blackish-brown except for a small patch of white on its chin. It was a swift – the fastest long-distance flying bird in Middle Earth.

The Elves all stared at the swift with wide eyes. To them this was rare – it was still February and swifts rarely came to Mirkwood as it was, let alone in the winter months like now and when they did, they rarely came beneath the canopy of the trees – preferring instead to go whizzing around in the sky above, catching insects on the wing. Yet here was one at the complete wrong time of year and sitting on the shoulder of the newcomer.

The swift beadily eyed Thranduil before it took off again with a blaze of speed and shot towards the Elven King. Thranduil raised a hand and allowed the swift to settle on his finger, before bringing it close to his ear and allowing the bird to chirp quietly into it. To Lillymon this was an obscure sight – was Thranduil understanding what the swift was saying? Because all she could hear was peeping noises. But she remembered the brambling that had been sent here with a message in the first place and realised that he probably could.

"Well," Thranduil said, after the swift had apparently had its say. "It would seem that fate is with you indeed, Digimon. I have heard what I need to hear to be convinced that you are trustworthy?"

"Really?" Lillymon blinked. He was taking everything on the word of that little bird?

"Sire?" Tauriel asked, looking less confused but still apparently wanting an answer.

"This swift has come directly to us from the Golden Wood of Lothlórien, with a message from the Lady Galadriel herself," Thranduil smirked.

There was a murmur among the Elves at this, but all Lillymon could think to say was, "Who?"

"Lady Galadriel is the Lady of the Golden Wood," Tauriel explained. "And is recognised by all our kind as being the wisest and most powerful Elf left in existence. But some margin I believe."

"Indeed," Thranduil nodded. "And according to the swift, her message is that we are to give sanctuary and aid in any way to any Digimon that come our way, for many of them are lost in this world but they are all to be trusted. They are our allies."

The Elves all around them immediately began lowering their bows – if Galadriel said that the Digimon were to be trusted then they were. She, like Gil-Galad, had the ability to recognise a friend from a foe with ease, or at least have suspicion about those who could conceal themselves well.

But all Lillymon could think to say was, "Wait, 'many of them?' So does that mean that all of my friends – the Digimon of Xros Heart, are here too? Somewhere in this world?"

"So it would seem," Thranduil nodded. "In fact, the swift says that a couple of your friends are, even at this moment, in the Golden Wood where it came from to bring us the message."

"It did? They are?" Lillymon asked excitedly. "Which ones? Was one of them a small red lizard-like creature?"

Thranduil listened to the swift's chirping again for a moment before he said, "The messenger says no there was no red lizard, but that both of them were tall Digimon that resembled Men, one of which wears armour, some huge weapon on one arm that it cannot name, has three eyes and large black wings…"

"Beelzemon!" all three Monitamon cried at the same time.

"Oh thank goodness he's safe," Lillymon grinned. "And the other?"

"An person wearing brown robes with a cream hood, with an entirely black face and large yellow eyes that make it look like there's no face at all," Thranduil frowned at the swift's cheeps. "That sounds rather disturbing if you ask me."

"That sounds like Wisemon," Lillymon grinned. "And… yeah, he can be a little odd but he's a great guy. Thank the Code Crown those two are still alive and well. Where is this Golden Wood? I have to try and find them as quickly as I can."

"Not to worry," Thranduil nodded. "The swift says Lady Galadriel believes your paths will cross soon enough. In the meantime, Digimon, would you perhaps consider being our honoured guest? I am sure there are many things that we would all love to learn about you and your kind?"

"Do not expect to understand much of it, your Highness," Tauriel muttered dryly. "Believe me, I tried."

"That just makes me more interested," Thranduil chuckled. "Come, Elves. Let us retire inside the magic gates once again."

"Magic gates?" Lillymon asked as she began to follow the Elves back through the open doors of the hill, Thranduil and the Royal Guard turning their steeds around and stepping back into the stronghold.

"Yes," nodded Tauriel. "These doors only open if King Thranduil or one of his Royal Guard command it to, which makes it impossible for people without permission to get through them in or out without bashing them down, and they are made from such study material that it would take an extreme amount of force indeed to get that to happen. And I would quite like to see someone attempting to get a battering ram over that bridge."

"Do the things that you ride on go over that bridge?" the Monitamon asked.

"But of course," Tauriel nodded. "The horses and King Thranduil's elk are just as sure-footed as any Elf. We have raised them to be so. And the bridge is more than capable of supporting their weight. But come, let's go inside."

Lillymon followed Tauriel through, the Elves behind her falling in step. She didn't know what she was expecting when she walked past the giant gates but she had never really been over-fond of caves. But when she got through, it didn't feel like they were in a cave at all. It was an ornately decorated corridor with proper floors and walls and a ceiling rather than the natural rugged and uneven sides you would find in an actual cave.

It was also well-lit, with many large torches lining the walls and making it almost as bright as it was outside. And it didn't feel stuffy and enclosed like a cave did – she could still feel nice, clean air blowing over her petals and that reassured her no end.

It was obvious that there was a great number of halls and passages in this place – it was more than a base and seemed to be a full-on fortress set in the hillside, winding corridors leading off to who-knew-where all over the place, and various levels and stairs. It was like an underground mansion that didn't feel like it was underground at all.

The Elves around them began to disperse in various directions but Tauriel and the four Digimon continued to follow Thranduil through the main corridor.

"This place is amazing," E-Monitamon-2 observed with wide eyes pictured on his screen.

"It is, isn't it?" Tauriel smiled. "We are very proud of it. It is a fortress that has never been fully assailed by any enemy threat that has come upon it, and there has only ever been one time where prisoners have escaped from our halls. Though it was a good thing they did to be totally honest because those prisoners then went on to found the new Kingdom in Erebor."

"Erebor?" Lillymon asked. "Where's that?"

"It's a kingdom of Dwarfs to the north-east of here, set under a giant single mountain, appropriately named the Lonely Mountain for that reason. It was beset by a powerful Dragon many years ago that drove out the Dwarven people who lived there, but a company of Dwarves we imprisoned for trespassing sixty years ago managed to escape and managed to reclaim their halls from the Dragon."

Lillymon shuddered. That was a stark reminder of the time her own home had become a part of Dragon Land and the people terrorised by the forces of Dorbickmon. She had been able to do nothing against them, and had set to trying to find Shoutmon and the other members of Xros Heart instead. And indeed, they and Blue Flare had managed to eliminate the Dragon leader and free the place in a similar manner.

Tauriel was still talking. "We do not have very much to do with the Dwarves even now, but we received some of the goods that they produce and they receive ours through the Men that like as Esgaroth between us so we have a long-distance relationship that mutually benefits us both."

"Just so long as we do not have much contact with them," Thranduil remarked from the front – he had disembarked his elk some time ago and allowed it to be taken away to the stables. "There is no love lost between my race and that of the Dwarves. I believe many at the mountain still resent me for imprisoning their King. Perhaps that was a rash decision on my part, but there have been instances in the past where Dwarf raiding parties have attacked Elves and that is what I assumed they were there to do. It turns out I was wrong, but even if I had not taken such actions I believe that Dwarves and we would still not have an open relationship."

Lillymon felt a little uncomfortable, not really understanding a whole lot of the conversation since she'd never seen a Dwarf before and knew nothing of the long history that they shared with the Elves. So, instead, she said, "Um… how did they escape?"

"Quite ingeniously actually," Thranduil admitted. "They managed to load themselves into the supply barrels that we send down the river the runs underground beneath our fortress and my unsuspecting Elves pushed them out into the river and sent them on their way. Since we learned of that escape route we have always checked what is inside each barrel whenever we do have a prisoner in our halls and nobody has been able to escape that way since. Nor will they ever again."

They had reached a large hall by this point that was clearly King Thranduil's throne room, as depicted by the giant throne seated at one end. Thranduil strode over to it and settled down in it gracefully, but Lillymon's attention was more diverted to the smaller throne that was situated on Thranduil's right hand side.

"Is that throne for the Queen?" she asked. "Is there an Elven Queen as well as a King?"

"That?" Thranduil asked, shaking his head. "Oh no. That throne is where my son, Prince Legolas, sits when he is in residence. He is not here now – I am told that he has gone on a long excursion at the behest of my good comrade Elrond from the West, but when he is here he attends the matters of court as any Prince of the Realm should."

"Oh," Lillymon muttered. "So… there is no Elven Queen?"

"Not anymore," Thranduil shook his head sadly. "It has been many thousands of years since Mirkwood had a Queen. It was still called the Greenwood when there last was. My beloved wife perished in battle a long time ago, before even my Father, Oropher, fell at the Battle of the Last Alliance in the Second Age."

"Ah…" Lillymon shifted, knowing that she had brought up a subject that was clearly a sensitive spot. "Was she… was she a good Queen?"

"Oh, she was never Queen," Thranduil shook his head. "The last Queen of Mirkwood was my mother. I was only crowned as King after the death of my father, and my wife died before he. But she was a wonderful wife and brave warrior. I have often thought that had she lived, she would have been a spectacular Queen of the realm."

"Well… I'm sorry for your loss then," Lillymon looked down at her boots.

Thranduil has never had a Queen. He may have had a wife, but as a King he had never had a Queen. Was this what could possibly happen to Shoutmon if they ever got back to the Digital World? Would he be destined to remain like Thranduil – a solo King ruling his country alone? She didn't think that that seemed fair but the same old doubts always came back to plague her, knowing that she was not the one fit enough to fulfil the role that would needed of her if she became Shoutmon's mate.

Yet Shoutmon _did_ deserve a Queen.

Just… not her.

She sighed. Maybe she should just try and get over this crush of hers, no matter how long lasting it had been. Perhaps she should encourage Shoutmon to seek one out when they last saw one. She wanted the best for him, and even if it wasn't with her she would still want him to have a happy relationship.

"So," Thranduil said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Tell me everything about yourselves."

"Um… you might be here a while," Lillymon shook her head to clear her thoughts of Shoutmon and offered him a smile.

"An abbreviated version will do," he said.

Lillymon nodded and, for the second time since she'd got here, launched into the explanations.

* * *

Meanwhile, several leagues to the northwest, one of the Dwarves that had just been alluded to by Tauriel and Thranduil – the member of the company of Thorin, Dwalin, was looking up towards the looming mountain with fondness.

The Lonely Mountain, the site of the Dwarf Kingdom of Erebor, rose into the sky like an almighty spike jutting out of the earth itself – a massive structure, tall enough to be capped in snow for the majority of the year and a landmark that could be seen for miles and miles in any direction provided another landmark was not in the way.

Dwalin could still remember clearly that moment after he and the other members of his company had crossed over the Misty Mountains on the backs of the Eagles and were placed upon the tall Carrock. They had been able to look out to the horizon and see the mountain over forest and plain alike and then they had been leagues away.

Now, as they approached the mountain yet again, the structure practically looked like it didn't have a top as it reached up to pierce the clouds themselves at its highest peaks.

This was his home. It had been a struggle to reclaim it for sure but they had eventually done so with the aid of the Men of the Long Lake they had just left behind helping by battling the dragon, and also with the help of that one small Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins – the only member of their company to actually have a conversation with the great Worm Smaug, whose bones now lay on the bottom of the lake to the South.

The land had changed greatly since the time of the Dragon. Back when the Dwarves had first arrived, the landscape around the mountain had been nought but a blackened and ash-ridden husk – the whole area simply named as the Desolation of Smaug. It was as if the Dragon had made sure that nothing whatsoever was allowed to grow anywhere within two miles of the mountain's walls.

And the city of Dale which had lain nestled in the valley before the doors of the Mountain had been just as desolate as the land itself – a broken and battered ruin of crumbling stone and streaks of soot, empty of all life.

Now, all of that had changed. In the sixty years since the Dragon had been slain, the city had long been rebuilt and now much of it practically shone in the morning sun. Even from this distance Dwalin could hear the calls of the Men who lived there bustling about the streets just as they had before the Dragon had even arrived, selling things in their marketplaces and children running around and getting under the feet of the adults.

Each building had been fortified and restructured anew, the Dwarves of Erebor helping in any way they could (which was a considerable amount) to build the city stronger and grander than it had ever been before, and Dwalin could see the catapults and towers that had been constructed in preparation for another attack by a Dragon. Not that there had been. If any Dragons still existed who had thoughts of challenging the strength of Dale and Erebor, they did not dare to act upon it. At least not so far.

Not that there were any Dragons left who could match Smaug's strength as far as they knew. And none of the remaining Dragons had the same defences on their belly Smaug had, so unless they were caught frightfully unaware, they were confident that they could now at least push back an encroaching Dragon without too much loss of life.

And the area around the city itself was now green and lush once again, with farmers constantly toiling in the fields and producing vast amount of crop every year. Now in the late winter months, it looked a little dry in comparison to normal, but in the middle of summer, everything around the mountain was a stretch of green and grain so yellow that it was practically gold in a lot of places. But it was still impressive even now, and Dwalin could see people already beginning to sow the seeds into the fields, for spring was just around the corner and it would not be long before the valley was set to bloom once again.

"Never fails, does it?" Bofur remarked as he stepped up beside Dwalin at the edge of the supply cart. "Never fails to just… absorb your attention, no matter how many times you see it."

"Indeed not," Dwalin agreed.

"Have you ever tried to approach the mountain without letting your eyes get drawn up towards the top?" Bofur asked. "I've attempted it every time I come back for the last thirty years and never once been able to stop myself."

"It's an impossibility," Dwalin chuckled. "I don't think I will even bother to try."

"It is truly a magnificent natural structure," Knightmon's voice came from the back of the cart, and the two Dwarves turned around to see their fellow passengers standing tall, unruffled by the slight pitching of the cart. "If there is something of its like where I come from then I have not seen it."

Dwalin snorted. "I should think not," he said. "There is no mountain quite like this one. Not even in your world, if you really are from another."

Bofur chuckled. "You'll have to excuse my pal here a little," he jostled Dwalin's shoulder lightly. "We tend to get a little overprotective of what we're proud of, even if it's only to defend its reputation."

"We should be arriving in Dale shortly," Dwalin said, ploughing on regardless. "Are you Digimon creatures going to attempt to hide yourselves?"

"There is nothing to conceal," Knightmon stated. "We are friends and allies of all good people. We shall go with you with our heads held high."

"That is the right answer," Dwalin nodded. "Well done. Now, let's get moving."

The Dwarf at the front flicked the reigns and the Yurg snorted and carried on down the hill. Normally, even though the lake and the mountain were comparatively close to one another, it would take them a couple of days to get from one to the other, even on a tireless yurg. But the yurg had ridden on through the night at the command of those in the cart. The Dwarves had felt it necessary to bring word of these new creatures to their King as soon as possible, so here they were no, even ahead of schedule.

The Digimon had ridden precariously in the cart along with them. Several of the PawnChessmon had wedged themselves between some of the chests in an attempt to keep themselves from unintentionally rolling out or falling over, while Knightmon had remained on his feet for practically the entire journey, steady as a steel boulder and with his arms folded like a sentinel, constantly on watch. As the bodyguard of Princess Bastemon, wherever she may currently be, he was used to long nights without sleep.

After all, Bastemon slept so much that the chances of her being caught napping had always been far, far too high for Knightmon's liking.

Starmon and the Pickmon horde, on the other hand, had slept like logs. Or rocks. They had spent the vast majority of the journey just lying rather haphazardly in a large, constantly shifting mound in the middle of the cart that the Dwarves had to carefully step around when they wanted to get from one side of the cart to the other. It was like they had all passed out in the middle of a massive dog-pile.

How the ones on the bottom could even breathe, smothering by all their countless comrades like that, was utterly beyond both Knightmon and the Dwarves.

Still, before they had fallen asleep, the Dwarves had asked the lot of them many questions about themselves. Starmon was one they seemed to be particularly fascinated by, possibly because it looked like he was made entirely of gold. The little star had danced from side to side on his bottom-most prongs, as he normally did when excited… or really feeling just about any emotion, and answered them as best he could.

Which was not very well.

"Are you really made of solid gold?"

"Well of course. What does it look like, brothers?"

"But how does that even work? How can solid gold stand up and walk around?"

"I've never questioned it. I just am."

"How were you brought into existence? Through some magic?"

"I dunno. Maybe the Code Crown decided I would look cool. Because I certainly do look cool don't I? I want to be more than a star. I want to be a Super Star. And maybe one day I can digivolve into a SuperStarmon and fulfil that dream."

"I don't understand what that means…"

"Maybe one day you'll see for yourselves, because I'll never stop hoping. Right Pickmon?"

"Yay! Right brother!" came the chorus of voices all around them.

Knightmon chuckled. Starmon had never exactly been the most coherent or… well… brainy of the group. He mostly just reacted to things that the others did rather than come up with any progressive thoughts of his own. And the Pickmon… well… they all followed him around and did whatever he did so… yeah… not the brightest. Knightmon recalled that their idea of searching for Taiki after he had been separated from the others in the Sand Zone had been to burying themselves under the sand and move around to see if he was down there.

He hadn't been.

Still he was an integral part of it all and Knightmon held as much respect for him as he did for any of the others. Even when the Pickmon were running around mindlessly and getting in the way of everything.

Now, as they rode into Dale, Starmon was bouncing up and down on top of the crates excitedly and crying, "Yay! Brothers! Look at the mountain! It's so huge! It's so massive. I bet even MailBirdramon would struggle to fly all the way up there."

"Yay!" chorused the Pickmon dutifully, mimicking his behaviour. The Dwarves could only stare at them in complete bewilderment. How a bunch of tiny little creatures like them could have such limitless reserves of energy and enthusiasm for just about everything was beyond them. Dwalin and Bofur remembered well how their smaller Hobbit companion had complained a lot on their journey, but Starmon and his lackeys seemed to find wonder in just about anything.

Of course their mountain was definitely something to feel wonder about and they took it with pride.

* * *

The yurg trundled its way into Dale a short while later. The people of Dale were all Men – none of them were Dwarves for they all lived in the Mountain. However, there were a number of Dwarves currently about, having come out of the mountain on business with the various people. There were even a couple of Dwarf women out and about, and there weren't that many of them compared to the Dwarf men. Plus, their beards made it difficult to tell the difference between them.

Still, as they approached, everyone turned to look in the direction of the cart and its strange, tall occupant in the back, clad in the shining armour with the humungous sword and shield strapped to his back, arms folded over his barrel chest and without a shred of skin even visible under all the metal.

There was a muffled sense of awe amongst them, as well as some confusion. Naturally, considering Knightmon's shape, none of them had any reason to suspect that this guy was not a Man. And a noble warrior at that, who had doubtless seen many great battles in his time. Of course, they were right in that second point, but not in the first.

Nobody tried to hinder the progress of the Dwarf cart until they came close to the centre of the town. It was there that Dwalin spotted a couple of figures in the middle of the square, surrounded by guards and talking to one another. One of them was a Man, with mid-length black hair and short black beard, who wore long robes of state and carried an enormous longbow and quiver of arrows on his back. There was not a blade on him anywhere – this man preferred the bow and arrow as he only weapon, claiming that the bow made a more than effective staff at close range. Not that he didn't know how to actually _use_ a sword.

The other was a Dwarf with a very large axe strapped to his own back. He was tall for a Dwarf, about the same height as Dwalin himself, and his hair and enormous beard were silver in colour, and would probably turn totally white given a few more years. His face was gruff and his nose long, but he bore himself with an air that belied his smaller size in comparison to the Man. And the fact that he wore an robust helmet with large plates sticking up at regular intervals that signified it to also be a crown, would probably have given away his identity pretty quickly.

Dwalin grinned, finding it fortunate to find both these individuals here at the same time, and at their approach the two of them looked up, as did all of their guards. Dwalin called the yurg to a halt and leapt out the side of the cart, striding purposefully towards the pair with a cry of:-

"Hail Dáin Ironfoot, son of Náin, King Under The Mountain," he slammed one armoured fist into his chest. "And hail too to Brand, son of Bain, King of Dale. How fortunate to find you both together like this."

"Dwalin," King Dáin stepped forward with a hearty chuckle in a heavy accent, seizing the hand of the other Dwarf and shaking it firmly. "You're a day early my old friend. I wasn't expecting the supply run to Esgaroth to arrive until tomorrow."

"Nor I," King Brand joined his fellow monarch. "I trust that everything went smoothly if you arrived back this early. How are the Men of the Long Lake faring?"

"Well enough, sire," Dwalin informed him. "There hasn't been any sign of an attack by the enemy yet. But I do bring some news, hence why we rode through the night to get back here as quickly as we could to deliver it to you."

"Sounds serious," Dáin frowned. "Is it the Enemy?"

"No, sire," Dwalin shook his head. "It is not so much serious as… bizarre. So that's why I…"

"Hey there! You guys are Kings right?" Starmon suddenly yelled as he bounded out of nowhere, spinning like a shuriken until he landed neatly on Dwalin's bald head. "Just like my buddy Shoutmon. He's smaller than you though. Both of you."

Both of the monarchs and the surrounding guards lurched backwards in shock as the sight of the talking golden star, a couple of them going for their weapons. But before they could, Bofur had stepped forwards to join the group and plucked Starmon neatly from his new perch, to place him on his shoulder instead.

"Might want to watch how you introduce yourself, my friend," he chuckled to Starmon. "Take a monarch by surprised probably isn't the best way of making a good first impression."

"Oh," Starmon said. "Shoutmon's never had a problem with it."

"Maybe that's because he's known you since childhood if your wacky stories are anything to go by," Bofur pointed out. "But these guys haven't. Excuse the little guys, your Highnesses? They tend to get a little excited by… everything."

"Little guys?" Brand recovered himself. "Plural?"

Bofur looked down at his feet in answer. Dáin and Brand started again when they beheld the several dozen Pickmon scrambling over the stones to peer around the feet of both Dwalin and Bofur or bounce up and down excitedly muttering things like "Yay. Kings," and "Woot. Woot."

"What is the meaning of this?" Dáin demanded. "Is this some kind of sorcery that tiny misshapen things such as these are moving and speaking?"

"Misshapen?" Starmon pouted. "I'll have you know I'm a star. In more ways than one. I think I'm a pretty good singer. Want to hear me sing?"

"No, Starmon," Knightmon voice rang out clearly behind them as the larger Digimon stepped off the back of the cart and strode over towards the waiting group. "There shall be no need for that. Perhaps you should let me do the talking."

"You've been doing most of the talking since we got here," Starmon pouted.

"That is because you only know who to talk to people as though you are already friends with them," Knightmon pointed out. "But these situations require diplomacy, which is something that you and your brethren would probably do well to learn. Not all Kings are as lenient as Shoutmon."

"So we're learning," Starmon muttered.

Dáin and Brand were now staring at this new guy. He was taller than the average man and even Brand had to admit that he didn't fancy his chances against someone like this in a one on one fight. He was actually considering whether finding and carrying a sword around might actually be a good idea now just by looking at this big guy. As to Dáin, he too was wondering if he would be able to win in a proper fight against him, though he thought that he might have a pretty good shot given the right circumstances.

And neither of the Kings failed to notice the ten PawnChessmon that filed up behind Knightmon, smaller than any Dwarf or indeed any Hobbit beyond the very, very young. The ten little Digimon saluted the pair of them with their tiny spears, but said nothing, differing to Knightmon's authority as they usually did in these situations.

"Please excuse my friends," Knightmon said. "They are always keen to make new friends so sometimes they can go a little overboard with their greeting. I am Knightmon and I am very pleased to make the acquaintance of both monarchs of the Mountain and the Valley. I have heard much about the pair of you on my journey here with your Dwarven supply run."

"You are certainly a giant of a Man," Brand noted.

"I am not a Man," Knightmon said, now fully understanding that the people of this world did not refer to their humans as humans but Men in general (and he wondered what Bastemon would have to say about that but kept that thought to himself). Nor am I Dwarf nor Elf as you can plainly see. I am something else entirely and I have come here with what brethren I have left with me to seek sanctuary and aid in return for my own aid in any way that I can."

Dáin and Brand were suitably confused. Especially when Starmon added. "Sorry, I've forgotten – which one of was which. I think I was watching a butterfly when it was explained to me."

Dwalin coughed and indicated accordingly as he said, "This is King Dáin II Ironfoot, former Lord of the Iron Hills, King Under the Mountain and Leader of the Dwarves of the East. When we, that is to say Bofur and I, and our companions, came on that adventure we told you all about to free the Mountain from the Dragon, Dáin and his men came west from the Iron Hills to aid us after the Dragon had been slain and… after the death of Thorin… he became the King Under The Mountain in his stead, for Thorin had no heir and Dáin, as Thorin's second cousin, was his closest living relative."

"What about his first cousin?" Starmon asked.

Dwalin didn't really know how to answer that question so he simply said, "And this is King Brand of Dale, the Lord of all the Men from here to the Long Lake and Bearer of the Bow. He is the grandson of Bard, the man who personally slew the great Dragon with a Black Arrow, and descendent of the line of Girion, the last King of Dale who was killed when Smaug first descended on our mountain halls, but who's line survived until Bard reclaimed the throne."

"This is a little confusing to me," Starmon muttered. "But still YAAAAAAYYY for your grandfather killing the enemy like that."

"YAAAAYYYY!" echoed the Pickmon, bouncing up and down enthusiastically.

"Um… thanks… I think," Brand coughed. "Well then… I believe that, as the monarchs here, we should be the ones asking you the questions. Such as what are you and how did you come here?"

"We encountered them by the Long Lake, your Majesties," replied Bofur. "Claiming that they were lost and such. We thought you'd want to meet them in person."

"Aye, and come to your own judgement as to whether their story can be believed," Dwalin agreed. "I guess that you have the floor now, Digimon."

"Thank you," Knightmon nodded. "Well, I am but a humble servant of the army of Xros Heart and bodyguard to the Princess Bastemon of the Digital World. I am Knightmon as I previously said, and these are the PawnChessmon, my loyal soldiers all."

"Pawn!" the PawnChessmon cheered, lifting their spears into the air again.

"And you've already been acquainted with Starmon and his… merry band of Pickmon."

"Merry is a good thing, right?" Starmon asked.

"Yes, it is," Knightmon nodded.

"Yay!"

"Now," Knightmon said. "I am about to tell you the story of where we came from and what we are. It is likely that you will find it fantastical and unbelievable and you may not understand a lot of it, which is not a reflection on your intelligence but on the perplexity of the tale. For you see, we are all Digimon and we come from the Digital World…"

And so Knightmon wove the same tale that he had told back down at the Long Lake, acquainting the two monarchs, both of which looked similarly sceptical and increasingly so as he went on, as well as totally bemused by a lot of it as Knightmon had predicted, with everything that a Digimon was.

When Knightmon was done, he could tell easily that his prediction of them finding it hard to swallow had been entirely correct, but before either the Dwarf or the Man could say anything he went on with:-

"There is not much that I can do to convince you in the way of words," Knightmon said. "All I can do is prove my loyalty and good intentions to you with actions and hope that you come to see for yourselves that I am not attempting to trick you. And I shall do it thus."

He suddenly drew both the massive sword that he carried under his shield on his back, as well as the smaller one that he held at his side simultaneously. Both the Kings tensed at his action but were startled when Knightmon suddenly cast the blades at their feet, the swords clattering to the ground and rocking on top of each other right in front of Brand, before Knightmon knelt down before them.

The PawnChessmon quickly followed his actions and tossed their little spears around the two swords and knelt down as well, with their heads all bowed.

"Should we bow too, brother?" one of the Pickmon asked.

"Nah, Knightmon's doing it for us and besides we can't bow without falling over," Starmon pointed out.

"Okay! Yay!"

Knightmon placed one hand on the ground and the other on his chest in a gesture of honesty and said, "Until such a time as I can return to the side of my Princess, who I am currently supposed to be guarding but have become unfortunately separated from when transported here, I shall pledge my loyalty to both King Dáin of Erebor and King Brand of Dale simultaneously, upon pain of death. I am but the humble servant of both of you and shall do anything in my power to aid you in coming battles or in any other conceivable way. Until the Princess arrives to reclaim it, you have my loyalty and my faith. This is a warriors vow and so may it be."

"And so may it be," echoed all of the PawnChessmon, raising their little fists into the air in salute.

Brand and Dáin stared at them for a while before they turned to look at each other instead.

"Well," Brand muttered. "I am convinced that he's not with the Enemy at least. Nor that he has and other ill intention against either of our peoples. A dishonest Man, or person, would not swear in such a manner, I feel."

"I agree, unless it were a very convincing performance," Dáin said. "But still, perhaps it would be best to give them the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. Though their tail still sounds a little too far-fetched for my liking."

"Though it is true that I have never before heard records of creatures that look like those small ones," Brand pointed out.

"Neither have I and I have lived far longer than you," Dáin agreed. "You are a mere sapling compared with I… very well then Knightmon, you may rise. As well as the rest of your… group. We are convinced of your loyalty."

"Thank you," Knightmon said. "It is much appreciated. Digimon of Xros Heart such as we have no wish to harm the innocent. Though there is but one favour that I would ask of you, and that is if there is any chance of search parties being sent out to look for the rest of our missing friends. I am anxious to find the Princess as soon as possible. Who can say what kind of peril she has landed herself in without me there to help her. She could have landed alone and… she has never had to fend for herself before."

"This princess of yours would be the one that resembles a feline woman?" Brand asked.

"Yes, that's the one," Knightmon nodded. "But any others would be surely appreciated as well."

"Very well. We shall see," Dáin nodded. "In any case I believe that we have concluded our business here, Brand. It would seem that we have little choice but to wait to see if the Enemy really does show its face anytime soon, but if it does then we shall truly give them a…"

"…butt-kicking that they deserve?" Starmon interjected.

Dáin and Brand stared at him again, before Dáin muttered, "I would not have used that phrase. Why on earth would we want to kick Orcs in the backside?"

"Oh I don't know. It could be quite amusing," Bofur chuckled. "In any case, I like these guys."

Dáin nodded and humphed. "Yes, well… anyway… perhaps you would like to come and enter the Mountain Halls as our esteemed guests, Digimon. I have little doubt that the Dwarven people would be most interested in you. Particularly you, little golden one."

"Superstar, man. Superstar," Starmon tried to strike what he probably thought was a cool pose, but his lack of any serious limbs made it look a little strained really.

"Yes… well… come now," Dáin ushered them forwards. "I trust your Men can sort out the supplies on the wagon whilst I show these Digimon about, King Brand."

"Certainly," Brand nodded. Dáin took that as his cue for he and his Dwarven host to make their way back towards the Mountain. Brand turned to Knightmon and said, "You may want to retrieve your weapons, my friend."

Knightmon nodded, his eyes indicating the grin hidden underneath his helmet and retrieved his swords to stride after Dáin, the Dwarven guards, Bofur and Dwalin. The PawnChessmon briefly squabbled over which lance belonged to which of them before they hurried on after Knightmon, joining the Pickmon in the scramble through the streets of Dale after the Dwarves.

* * *

It took a while before they managed to reach the main gates of Erebor even from the city's border, having to descend deeper down into the valley and into the 'arms' of the mountainside towards the door set in the side of the base. A pair of massive, reinforced stone gates, built to try and keep out even a Dragon, loomed over them, and on either side of the gate was a giant statue of a Dwarf King, set in stone forever more and standing imperiously and proudly before the doors of their Kingdom ever after.

Dáin didn't even have to give a signal for the doors to open. As they drew closer, a horn went up and the great gates slowly began to grind open, the massive stone doors sweeping out in great arcs from the mountainside on giant hinges that were probably twice as tall as Knightmon each. Knightmon had to admit he was very impressed by it all. To be able to create these _massive_ structures out of stone and rock with hand and hammer alone? Just how skilled were these Dwarves when it came to forging and stonework?

As it turned out, very. For the doors were only the tip of the iceberg.

When they got inside the Digimon were almost literally blown away, so staggering were they by what they eventually saw. After the entrance corridor was passed they opened up onto a _huge_ space – absolutely humungous in both scale and grandeur. It was obviously a throne room of some kind that consisted of a huge bridge towards the thrones at the other end and the walls were lined with even spaced statues of giant stone Dwarves, similar to the ones outside and each one wearing grand armour and wielding massive stone weapons as if they were all set to step off their pedestals and charge at any moment.

"This is the Hall of Warriors as well as the throne room," Bofur stated as the Digimon looked around with low-hanging jaws. Each of those statues is of a former King Under the Mountain, and powerful Dwarf Lord who ruled under this mountain in ages past. You're looking at the visage of the line of Dúrin himself. And those three at the end… they were the most recent three.

Behind the throne there were three more statues that stood tall over the throne. The two on either side were long-bearded and bulky looking, while the one in the middle was slighter but still stocky and tough, with a shorter beard and an expression of rigid determination, with a curved sword held aloft in one hand and a what appeared to be a branch slung over his left arm like a shield.

"The one on the right is Thrór," Dwalin said. "The last King Under The Mountain before the Dragon came and despoiled the place. The one on the left is Thráin, his Son, who never got to be King Under The Mountain, but who deserved a space here with his line. And the one in the middle…"

"I am guessing that that is Thorin Oakenshield himself," Knightmon nodded. "Am I right?"

"Aye, you are," nodded Bofur, looking at the grim visage of the former Dwarf King sadly. "He who only got to be King Under The Mountain for a short while before his life was cruelly taken from him. Yet it was he that led the expedition to reclaim the Mountain and were it not for that, perhaps there would still be a Dragon living in the passes below."

"What about those smaller ones?" one of the PawnChessmon asked, pointing to either side of Thorin where a couple of other stone Dwarves also with short beards, reasonably big but not nearly the size of the others, stood with their own swords out and one of them with a shortbow and arrow quiver at his back.

"Those were Thorin's nephews – Fíli and Kíli," sighed Dwalin. "They stood with us to the last before they fell at the Battle of Five Armies, protecting Thorin's wounded body from any that dared to come too close. Sadly they were not able to save him, but they prevented the foul Goblins from desecrating his remains and allowed him time to say farewell to his friends before he passed away. They were not Dwarf Lords, but it was agreed by all that they deserved a place in the hall for their valiant efforts."

"A noble sacrifice indeed," Knightmon nodded sadly. "And a worthy sentiment to honour the fallen. Let their efforts never be forgotten."

"You are well spoken indeed, Knightmon," Dáin stated as he turned around to look at the Digimon with what seemed like new respect. "I believe that Thorin would approve of you were he still alive today. Perhaps he is even now looking upon you from the Halls of Dwarf Lords of old, along with his father and grandfather. The misfortune that befell them in this mountain was great, but through their efforts it was reclaimed and for that, we are all thankful."

"This place is EPIC!" Starmon cheered, bouncing up and down with a bright grin on his face. "It's way bigger even than the castle we live in back home. If there was more of a floor in this room then all of Xros Heart could fit in here easily. Even Deckerdramon would be able to turn around in here!"

"I shall take that as a compliment," Dáin said. "Though we had to do a lot of rejuvenation to the place after the Dragon's wrath fell upon it. Much of it was devastated in his long reign here. Oh, and I believe this does not need to be any mentioned, but if you attempt to steal any of the gold or jewels, we will not take kindly to it."

"Of course," Knightmon said, stepping to the edge of the bridge. "But how much gold do you… oh…"

He cut himself off as he stared downwards in astonishment. He was looking down into the heart of the fortress and was amazed to see massive flights of stairs and stone walkways criss-crossing in all directions below him, leading into many giant passages through the rocks, with glinting gold and flashing colours in seemingly everywhere beneath him. Glinting piles of rubies, heaps of diamonds, masses of sapphires and loads of emeralds.

Dwarves bustled hither and thither below them, carting off the gems to various locations and Knightmon was sure that he could see the lights from bright forge fires emanating from various corridors He was enthralled and amazed, and the drop beneath them stretched down into blackness past the walkways as far as he could see and he could hear the constant beat of picks and hammers all over the place beneath them – a sound he had barely registered before but could now hear clearly.

Starmon had peeked over to get a look at what Knightmon was seeing and was similarly gobsmacked… which for him was a rarity. Knightmon wondered briefly if he was going to prance up and down and proclaim it to be 'art' which he claimed anything that looked vaguely pretty or awesome to be. But it seemed he was too riveted for that.

Just then there was a sound behind them – a voice. But not one saying anything that any of the Digimon could understand.

"Unt kai yan har, kami shi ai toh ga."

Knightmon blinked and turned around to see another Dwarf stepping towards them down the platform – a Dwarf with a long black and silver beard and ragged looking black hair and… what appeared to be… what was that on his forehead?

"Bifur!" Bofur suddenly cried. "Hello there. Come to meet with our new visitors, have you? Everybody, this is my cousin Bifur. Bifur, I'd like to meet some new allies that we made in the trip to Esgaroth. Weird bunch aren't they?"

"Pleased to meet you," Knightmon nodded.

"You have an axe coming out of your face," remarked Starmon conversationally. "Do you know that?"

Bifur frowned and made several weird gestures with his hands, accompanied with the sounds, "Dah tong li ranh ah ba!"

"You might not want to mention that," Bofur muttered. "It's kinda a sensitive issue for him, but of course he knows about it. It's just it was lodged in there in a battle long ago and it's been in there so long now that nobody dares remove it. And ah, look. Here comes Dori and Nori now," he gestured to a couple of other Dwarves stepping towards them – one of them with silver hair with a short rounded beard pulled into a single pony-tail-like strip that hung down his chest, and the other with brown obscurely shaped hair that swept up and to either side in three crest-like juts.

"Now that's an interesting looking item," the brown-haired one, Nori, said, nodding towards Starmon. "Anyone selling that?"

"Oi, I'm not for sale, you hear?" Starmon protested loudly, taking Nori by surprise, as well as Dori.

"What's going on here?" the latter asked.

"Well," Dwalin muttered. "If we have to re-explain it to every Dwarf in the mountain that we meet then it might take quite a while I'm afraid to say. Anyone seen Bombur?"

"Well where do you think my dear brother's going to be?" Bofur rolled his eyes. "Probably reclined on his chair when he always is. I don't seriously believe he's incapable of lifting himself to the dinner table. He doesn't need those six Dwarves to carry him."

"I heard that," a voice said indignantly from nearby and an _extremely_ fat Dwarf tottered into view behind them. He looked so rotund that if he fell over he probably would have bounced right off the edge of the platform and landed safely no matter how far he fell down. His bear and hair were red, though it also looked like he was balding "And you know it's not that I'm so heavy I can't carry my own weight, its that is difficult to get me to my feet in the first place. I'm perfectly capable of walking around myself once I have."

"Perfectly might be a bit strong there, brother," Bofur chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, causing Bombur to stagger slightly, so both Dori and Nori had to grab him to keep him upright.

"Any sign of Glóin yet?" Dwalin asked.

"None," Dori shook his head. "Haven't received any word of his return from Rivendell. And before you asked, no. We haven't had any word from Moria either."

"I suspected as much," sighed Dwalin, frustrated still at the lack of communication from his own brother. Dori and Nori looked similarly sad, for their own brother Ori had gone with Balin on the same trip, as had Glóin's own brother Óin. They were all getting a little anxious about it, but they knew that there was nothing they could do.

"Well," Dwalin shook his head. "Digimon, you are now standing in the presence of all the Dwarves from the original Company of Thorin still within the Halls of the Lonely Mountain. And all of you lot, meet the Digimon."

"A pleasure," Knightmon nodded to them. "I'm sure, one warrior to a bunch of others, that we'll get along quite splendidly."

"Ah toon kaba," Bifur might have agreed.

* * *

Well, that's a wrap this time folks and I'm afraid to say this will be the last chapter of this story I post for a while. You see, I now have a string of university assignments to do and only one month to do them all in, so after I have finished the next chapter of QOTG, I am going to go on a temporary hiatus, probably no longer than two weeks, so that I can get all of them done and out of the way at once. When I've done that, there will then be nothing important at all getting in the way of by writing until at least the end of May. Hope you understand – uni is more important than this after all. Sad, but true.

Bye then. See ya.

* * *

Next time…

Dorulumon and Beelzemon finally begin their journeys across the lands of this new dimension and Spadamon regains consciousness to find himself in the company of Halbarad the ranger, who finds himself in doubt of Spadamon's claims and decides to ask for clarification from another source.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 33 : The Strings Draw Closer**


	33. The Strings Draw Closer

Hello everybody, I am back again with the next instalment of this series and I fully intend to get back on the writing ladder. Thank you all for your patience thus far, and sorry I am late with this but the work went on longer than I was expecting and then real life seemed to determined to get in the way. Plus the second half of this chapter was actually really difficult to write, and I can only hope that I did a good job with it, but… well… I suppose it will be your verdict that tells me the answer to that question.

Still, enjoy the chapter everyone, in the knowledge that there is no way that I will stop writing this story no matter HOW LONG it takes me.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 33:- The Strings Draw Closer**

* * *

A group of ten ruggedly bearded Wild Men from Dunland, wielding long curved and crudely made swords and spears, most of which were sharpened pieces of stone attached to the end of a wooden staff or were even just braches with a sharpened end hardened by fire, were currently creeping along through the boulders strewn across the plains of Rohan – their animal-skin clothing flapping in the slight breeze and their scruffy bears and long hair falling in mats around their torsos.

The reason they were creeping was become from a slight distance away, they had spotted what appeared to be a wandering column of peasants from a nearby village, moving through the boulder field at an excruciatingly slow pace. Some of them were being born on hastily and crudely made litters if they were too weak to carry themselves. Others were limping, others were helping those that were limping, and the rest that seemed to be just fine were forced to stick to the pace of the those that weren't.

Not to mention there only seemed to be one horse in the entire group and it was being ridden by a woman and two children. No Rohirrim fighters here – they looked to be easy pickings.

Technically the Wild Men knew that they could simply charge down the hill and fall upon the group and there was little chance that any of them, except perhaps those on the horse, would get away. But they had always found that a surprise attack was all the more satisfying – they could watch the expressions on the people's faces turn from calm to fear as they leapt out of hiding. And besides, there was a chance, however remote, that there _were_ a couple of fighters among them so this was the best option.

So they stealthily clambered over and around the boulders, advancing on the column as they kept low to the ground, looking more like some kind of animal than Men and with savage expressions on their scarred faces, baring their blackened and misshapen teeth and delight evident on all of their expressions.

Easy pickings.

Or so it seemed.

Their leader – a man with grizzled grey hair and a longsword, or at least the Wild Men's equivalent of a longsword, was the first to go down. As he led the group from the front and stealthily crept closer, he became aware of a shadow extending up from that of the large rock that towered above him that he was standing next to. He looked up in alarm, but the only thing he saw was an orange blur plunging downwards him and the flash of white teeth before his world went black and he never saw anything ever again.

The other Wild Men lurched back in shock as the giant orange wolf wrenched his head and sent their leader's body flying from his jaws to crash against another nearby rock. The wolf then turned to face them with narrowed eyes, bringing its long tail with the drill end up like that of a scorpion to point it threateningly at the group of flabbergasted savages.

"I suggest you back away now," it said. "That is, if you would like to live to see the Sun set again later today."

The Wild Men pulled back at his harsh tone and looked around in fright, expecting several more strange-looking wolves to appear from behind the boulders – wargs rarely travelled alone after all. But there was nothing. There was just this lone individual, standing between them and the Rohan column, which had become aware of their presence by this point and had increased their speed.

"Stick him!" cried one of the Wild Men when it became obvious there was no additional wolves. "Don't let the villagers get away."

The group rushed the wolf en masse, and Dorulumon narrowed his eyes at their approach.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way."

One of the Wild Men threw a large spear directly at him, but Dorulumon merely flicked his head and used the drill poking out of his forehead to parry the blow and knock it aside, seizing the shaft of the spear in his teeth before barrelling forwards at incredible speed. He shot straight between the first two Wild Men and the two ends of the spear pole crashed into their necks as his did, crushing the windpipe of one as they both went down hard. One remained alive but robbed of air, but Dorulumon's tail slammed down on top of him without him even pausing in his stride a split second later and finished him off.

Another Wild Man swung a sword widely at him but the Wolf sprang over it and bounded off the side of a boulder to spring upon another and bare him to the ground, the large spike on his chest going through the Wild Men's torso in the process as his tail swung around and clobbered his previous attacker in the face. Another Wild Man ran in from the side with spear raised but Dorulumon thrashed his head and sent the spear he was still holding in his jaws flying at him, the point burying itself in his chest before he could fully heft his own weapon.

Three of the other Wild Men rushed towards him at the same time, their swords swiping the air or raised above their heads and vicious snarls adorning their faces now. But Dorulumon merely gave them a side-long look before he enlarged his tail drill and leapt onto it, drilling his way underground in a split second.

The Wild Men faltered, staring at the hole which he had disappeared down before the earth beneath their feet exploded and Dorulumon surged up from under them. His claws slashed across the middle one and slew him and his tail wrapped around the ankle of another to swing him around into the third and send them both crashing against the side of a boulder.

Then the one that he had clobbered in the face returned for more, springing from the top of a boulder and falling down towards him. Dorulumon just side-stepped and swung his tail up, slamming him in the face a second time and sending him spinning backwards to land in a heap. Dead or unconscious, Dorulumon wasn't sure.

But that left one Wild Man unaccounted for, and Dorulumon's nose instantly told him where he was to be found. He had broken away from the group attacking Dorulumon and was charging towards the column of peasants, running up across a boulder and preparing to fall down upon them. Dorulumon swung around and fired a single drill from his forehead, which blasted through the air faster than an arrow and crashed into the back of the Wild Man right between his shoulder blades right before he sprang off the boulder.

He collapsed in a heap next to the peasants, many of which freaked out a little bit at the sight of the dead body.

"Honestly," Dorulumon muttered as he stepped around the would-be raiding party, or what was left of it, and towards the group. "You lot really are in a fix aren't you? That's the third group of those people that I've had to deal with since I started guarding you, and that doesn't include the initial force that attacked your village."

"Our lands are overrun," the woman on the horse, Morwen, gritted her teeth. "It seems that the minions of the enemy are everywhere. No matter where we turn we will find them close by."

"Where are the Rohirrim?" protested one elderly man. "Are they not supposed to be protecting us from all of this? Why are they not the ones here guarding us from these threats?"

"Who knows?" said an equally elderly woman. "But we have no need of them right now, for Dorulumon has proven himself a perfect guardian in their place. Praise be to you, Dorulumon and thank you so much for your generosity in helping us."

"It is no bother," Dorulumon replied, which was not true – it was a _lot _of bother. Dorulumon was itching to get back out there and going at a proper, fast pace to start trying to find his friends again, but he knew as much as any other Xros Heart Digimon that abandoning these people in the middle of enemy-strewn terrain was not an option. There was no way he would stain Xros Heart's name – not even for something like that.

Plus, there was the small fact that he was killing humans. Savage, brutal humans – that was true – but humans nonetheless. Granted he had only ever known six humans before this and all of them were children, but he had become close to almost all of them before and could never think of laying a paw on them. Now, in the course of the last day, he had killed over twenty humans with his claws, teeth and drills. It really didn't sit well with him.

But he did anyway, because not doing it, and allowing them to kill these other humans who were innocent people… that just wouldn't fly. No chance at all of that.

Not that these humans called themselves humans. Dorulumon was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that all of them were Men even though half of them were women. It made so little sense to him.

Regardless, he had been shepherding them for almost two days now and it was starting to get very wearing indeed. But at least they were grateful for his help, though he still overheard a lot of them talking about how weird it was to get help from a wolf, even if he wasn't a real warg.

The more Dorulumon heard about wargs the more he actually wanted to see one, if only so that he could compare himself to one and see what the villagers were getting at. Nothing that he heard sounded good though. All he ever heard was that they were savage creatures that only formed allegiances with orcs and their masters and liked nothing better than charging into a group of innocent people to kill, dismember and devour them, and that anywhere a warg pack went, horror and misery and death were sure to follow.

Dorulumon was uncomfortably reminded of his own past – his time during the Bagra Army, which was something he didn't like to talk about at the best of times and something he had deliberately forgotten to mention to these people. But while he had not taken pleasure in the subjugation, slaying and oppressing of the innocent Digimon that the Bagra Army had done, there was no denying the fact that he had done it. It had all been about loyalty and following orders, but that changed nothing really.

Though thankfully he had never _eaten_ any of the Digimon he had killed during that time.

He liked to think that everything that he'd done during his time with Xros Heart had more than made up for all of that, but the burden of that would never go away. Still, he was thankful to Cutemon and Shoutmon for teaching him about friendship again, for he had all but given up on that until they and Taiki had entered his life. And now he forged a life protecting the innocent rather than destroying them.

Which was what he was doing now, even if it was tedious.

"How much further is it until this Helm's Deep place?" he asked. _The sooner you get to safety the sooner I can leave to go and find my friends,_ he added in his head.

"By my reckoning," said a middle-aged Man at the front of the column, "We should be there within an hour or so. I recognise this place. It is not much further now. Though the fact that the Wild Men have dared to come so close to the fortress is troubling."

"Regardless, let us press on," Dorulumon bounded down to stand by the group. "If anyone requires a lift my back is available."

Moments later, he was being ridden by a couple of adults and three children all at the same time, which was a weight that he could easily manage but he had to tell one of the children to pipe down after screaming with excitement almost directly into his ear and reminding him that they were meant to be keeping a low profile here.

* * *

Eventually though, the Man's prediction turned out to be right, when they drew close to a the end of a steep hill and the Man called out. "There it is! Helm's Deep is within sight."

Dorulumon put on speed to join the Man at the front, and he had to admit that he was impressed with what he saw down below. At the base of the mountains there appeared to be a deep ravine or valley that extended into the mountains some distance and right at the end of that ravine, pressed up against the cliffs of the mountainside, was the fortress. They were still at a distance from it, but Dorulumon could make out the long causeway leading up to the gates on the right of where he was standing, the tower that stuck up like a spear near the back and the long wall that stretched from the main fortress right across the rest of the valley, creating a solid barrier from right to left.

"Seems like solid stronghold," he observed. "But how do you defend against aerial attack?"

"Aerial attack?" the Man chuckled. "Nothing from the skies has launched an attack on Helm's Deep since it was built. But even if there was, there's plenty of room for a bunch of archers to bring it down within there."

"Yes, I suppose," Dorulumon nodded, before he shook himself. "But regardless, my business does not lie here. I am needed elsewhere – with my own comrades. Do you think that you can all make it to the fortress from here without me. For I very much doubt I would be welcome there if I've understood all this warg stuff correctly."

"We can make it," said another Man. "No raiding party would dare come this close to the fortress. Thank you, Master Not-Warg. I forget your name."

"Dorulumon," the Digimon coughed. "Well then, everybody off and I'll be on my way."

"Wait," Morwen protested as Dorulumon's passengers clambered down off his back. "I was under the impression that once we had delivered the people safely to Helm's Deep, you were going to accompany my children and I to Edoras to warn the King and raise the alarm just in case someone else has not done it already. We have already wasted enough time and I fear the pillaging to the Wild Men and those giant Orcs will have gotten far worse already."

Dorulumon shut his eyes and tried not to obviously grit his fangs. "Forgive me for asking but why exactly did you not set off yourselves when you had the chance a couple of days ago? Surely you do not need my protection while on horseback."

"You don't know that," Morwen shook her head. "I will not put my children in danger unnecessarily. I thought, back at the village when I sent them away, that it was the only option. But now that is not the case and there may be warg packs patrolling the plains of Rohan now. That is why I have stayed until this point."

"They why do you not leave them here at Helm's Deep and then go by yourself?" Dorulumon asked.

"No, we won't leave Mummy!" the little girl, Freda, suddenly cried. "You can't make us stay behind while she goes off on her own."

"That's right," Éothain nodded. "Please, Dorulumon, please help us."

Dorulumon sighed. "Can't turn your back on your mother, huh kids? Well I guess I can understand that. Just like Cutemon and his parents." The thought of his little charge and how he had shepherded him along solo long before he had joined forces with the Xros Heart army made his decision almost before he had really considered it. "Alright then, alright. I shall go with you again, but this time we must be swifter. The longer I tarry the more potential danger many of my friends are put in."

"We shall be swift, don't worry," Morwen nodded as Dorulumon stepped over to them. "We must warn the Royal Guard of what is transpiring as fast as we can and I suppose we have some lost time to put behind us. If we ride hard from now, we should be there by some time tomorrow morning. Assuming we do not run into trouble."

"Fair enough," Dorulumon muttered, though Morwen could see he still wasn't especially pleased.

"If it would make you feel better, perhaps this will help. In our company, you may have a better chance to explain your situation to the Rohirrim. I understand that your last visit to Edoras resulted in your being chased away as a result of them taking you for a warg. We can put in a good word for you and get them to see sense and with that, they will stop hunting you. That is something they will never stop doing unless they understand, for they would think you a threat to every member of the Rohan country."

"That would be a plus, I suppose," Dorulumon murmured. "And perhaps I could ask the horseman patrols to keep an eye out for any of my fellow Digimon friends."

"Yes, exactly," Morwen nodded.

"Very well," Dorulumon nodded. The horse, Garulf, nickered and shied away slightly as he approached. It had gotten used to his presence and no longer tried to kick him or run away, but it still wasn't entirely happy about it. Still, it seemed to be a fairly intelligent animal and understood that Dorulumon didn't seem to want to eat it.

"Then let's go," Dorulumon ignored the horse. "Which way."

"South east from here. If we follow the mountain range it will lead us straight back to it," Morwen reported.

"Then I'm going," Dorulumon offered them a smirk. "Let's see if you can keep up. Farewell everyone else."

The villagers barely had time to call out their gratitude once again before Dorulumon sprang away at tremendous speed, his claws and paws hitting the ground hard as he tore through the boulders and across the grass at a speed that his heavy looking bulk didn't look capable of. Morwen quickly wheeled Garulf around and spurred him forwards, the two children clinging on in the saddle before her and Garulf, sensing a competition, actually began to chase after the wolf Digimon, which is something that he never would have seen himself doing in the past – he wasn't a military horse after all.

"Keep up if you can, kids!" Dorulumon smirked over his shoulder as they went.

"Shouldn't we be the ones leading?" Morwen shouted. "We're the ones that know the way."

"Sounded pretty simple to get there to me," Dorulumon replied. "And besides, I'm not very good at following anyone that isn't Shoutmon or a General."

And so they barrelled on into the distance, leaving the villagers behind to make the final leg of the journey alone. And what a story they would have to tell when they finally got there. They were going to have a very hard time making themselves believed, that was for sure.

* * *

Some distance to the north of the running wolf, Beelzemon was setting about his final day in Lothlórien. He, like Dorulumon, felt that he had tarried for too long. Yes, he had been useful during his brief stay with the Elves and helped to fight off a large number of Orcs for them, but he did have other duties to attend to. His own duties as a guardian of the members of Xros Heart. And where were they all now? Still scattered across this land.

He still wasn't sure how he was going to go about finding them.

But apparently, the Lady Galadriel had a plan of some kind. How she had managed to come up with such a plan or how she knew without leaving the forest where any of his friends might be was beyond Beelzemon, but he didn't question it. He would never question Galadriel – she reminded him so much of the goddess of the Sand Zone and held so many of the same values and even had an incredibly similar presence, that he simply could not question her.

The Goddess had always known what she was doing, through some inexplicable way.

And he trusted Galadriel was the same.

Plus, she had that Mirror thing, so that must have been helpful.

Her words from a couple of days ago kept rattling around in his brain – the ones about how he had an important role to play and how that path would not lead with Shoutmon. His heart clenched slightly, remembering how that would keep him apart from Mervamon for some time. There was some part of him that craved to see her again so much that he considered ignoring Galadriel's words and going to try and find her instead of doing whatever it was that she said he was meant to do.

But he would never do that. Not really. His sense of loyalty to the group was too strong and when Galadriel said whatever it was that was going to keep him away from Mervamon was important, he believed it. And he knew that Mervamon would understand, and would do the same thing in his position. It didn't lessen their love for each other in any way, but they were both warriors. Guardians. Their duty was to protect the group, and each were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Finding each other was not the real priority. Finding those who were _less_ capable in battle was.

Nevertheless, he hoped it wouldn't be too long before he could see her again. But he knew it would likely be some time, and however long it was it would be too long for his liking.

For now, in the early morning sun, he contented himself by amusedly watching Wisemon making some last minute requests from many of the Elves around him.

"Alright then, forget the tooth, can I at least have a few of somebody's eyelashes. I've always wanted to study eyelashes and find out exactly what they're there for."

"No, you can't have any of our eyelashes," one of the Elves nearby said, looking as highly perturbed as all the rest of them. "Nor can you have any of our teeth, our nails – finger or toe – and you certainly cannot have one of our internal organs or some of our blood."

"Oh but those have always fascinated me," Wisemon whined. "I want to make a comparison between those with flesh and blood and those with Digital bodies like mine and Beelzemon's. Is there no chance you will reconsider?"

"No," the Elf shook his head.

"Can I at least have a sample of your nose mucus or earwax?"

"WHY WOULD YOU EVEN WANT THAT?!"

"Trust me," Beelzemon chuckled. "Wisemon can find anything fascinating. Tell them about the time you stared at a small sample of drool you took from Shoutmon while he was sleeping for three hours."

"It was interesting, damn it," Wisemon muttered. "Not that you simpletons could ever understand it."

Beelzemon snorted and rolled all three of his eyes, before he felt a tugging at his leg. He looked down to see that little Elvish girl Sindria, who was looking up at him with a big smile and holding up a flower to him.

"Here you go," she said. "You can give this to Mervamon when you see her again okay? She can put it behind her ear. I bet she'd look really pretty."

Beelzemon was touched. The flower would most likely have long-since died and wilted away before he could give it to Mervamon but he nevertheless accepted the little blossom and stored it safely at the belt around his waist. "Thanks little one," he smiled. "I'm sure she'll love it."

"I'll miss you," Sindria said. "You were funny."

"Well maybe I'll see you again one day," Beelzemon said, painfully aware that he would probably never be coming back here. Once he left the boundary of the Golden Wood he was going to be busy out in the world and when whatever they were meant to do here was accomplished he was hoping they would all be taken back home quickly. But he couldn't bring himself to tell the kid that.

He briefly considered again the possibility of him and Mervamon having a child together themselves.

But he knew that would be a long way off, even after they were reunited, whenever that was. Most likely not for a couple of years at least. Mervamon had said once that if she ever did have a kid, she would want it to hatch from its Digi-Egg around the same time as Shoutmon's child if he ever had one as well. That way the heir of the throne and the future guardian of the army could grow up together.

"Um…" Sindria said, shuffling one foot a little hesitantly. "I don't suppose… there's a chance… that before you go I could have a little ride could I?"

Beelzemon blinked, but then he grinned and scooped Sindria up in his one arm, the Elf girl squealing gleefully as her back was pressed to Beelzemon's armoured chest and he took to the air, wheeling and slaloming around the trees in an intricate circle and occasionally barrel-rolling. Many of the Elves turned to watch the giggling youngster having her fun, and smiles adorned the faces of even the most hardened of their kind. There were few things that delighted them more than watching a young child being happy.

Sindria was set down a couple of minutes later, beaming. Beelzemon chuckled at the expression on her face. Yes, he was sure he would have a kid one day. But not for long, loooong time yet. Being a parent would be a big thing, and for now, his and Mervamon's duties as warriors were more important than that.

"You certainly seem to have a way with the youngsters," said the elegant voice that he instantly recognised to be Galadriel's from behind him. Folding his wings, he turned around to face her with a smile on his face.

"I've been around them a lot," he said. "Cutemon is still practically a child even if he has matured some, as is ChibiKamemon and Lunamon. And sometimes even King Shoutmon behaves a little like a child… less so now than before of course but you know what I mean."

"Indeed," Galadriel nodded as she and Celeborn stepped forwards, with a number of Elves behind them and gathering around them. "But now it is time to say farewell, Beelzemon. Perhaps one day we shall indeed meet again but now we must part ways. I sense that many troubles will follow you when you go, but go you must to help fulfil the destiny of not yourself, but another… and of Xros Heart in general."

"I don't suppose you know exactly which member of Xros Heart it is that I am supposed to be helping, do you?" Beelzemon asked wryly.

"I do," Galadriel chuckled.

"And I don't suppose there is any chance you can actually tell me who that someone is?"

"No. You will learn it yourself in due time. But it will not be long before you meet them again, that I can promise you."

"Well, I trust your judgement, Lady Galadriel," Beelzemon nodded.

"And that is all I ask," Galadriel replied. "For the path I have in mind for you to take today is a very specific one, but I believe that you will find it most beneficial."

"And what path is that?"

"The sparrowhawk shall be your guide," Galadriel looked up into the tree where the mottled bird in question was preening a couple of its wing-feathers. "It will take you to where you need to go to find some of your friends."

"How does the sparrowhawk know which direction to go in?" Beelzemon raised a brow. "Does it have some kind of innate mental ability?"

"No, the sparrowhawk is as normal as most other birds," Galadriel smiled. "But I have instructed it to take you to the stronghold of some of our brethren to the north-east of here – Wood Elves from another forest, for I learned last night that some of your friends fell into their company and are currently staying with them. The sparrowhawk is one of our messengers, so it knows the way there. All you have to do is follow on, which should be a simple enough task for creatures with wings such as yourselves."

Beelzemon gave a half-smile. "Well it's good to know that some of my friends made it to some form of safety… they are safe with those fellow Elves of yours aren't they?"

"They will come to no harm there, especially not from the Elves themselves, and though their stronghold does not have the same protection as ours, it is still a strong place. However, it is likely they will consider you as dangerous, so I suggest when the sparrowhawk dips into the trees you do not follow immediately. Allow it to explain the situation of your arrival to the other Elves before you reveal yourselves."

"I can do that," Beelzemon nodded. "Is there anything else that I should know?"

"Yes," Galadriel nodded. "When you have reunited with some of your friends, if you want to fulfil your role then you, Beelzemon, and one of your friends, must immediately head straight west. Follow the Old Forest Road – our Elf brethren will direct you to it. You must follow it until you reach the Misty Mountains once again, for it is there that the destiny of your friend will begin."

"Delightfully vague," Beelzemon remarked. "But I believe that I can remember that. And afterwards?"

"Afterwards you will find the path you need to take on your own," Galadriel replied. "It is a long one, and there will be dangers even for your immense power, Beelzemon, lying in wait for you on it. But have full confidence that you shall prevail as long as you stick close to your friends."

"That is something that I will have no trouble doing," Beelzemon nodded. "Very well. Then I suppose we must make haste."

"Yes," Celeborn, who had remained entirely silent while his incredibly beautiful and incredibly knowledgeable wife took the helm to walk Beelzemon through what he was meant to do. "Time is short for all of Middle Earth and where you are needed to be you must go. Though we do not receive many visitors to the Golden Wood, at this parting it would be our tradition to let you leave with a gift of some kind. But I feel that we Elves have nothing to offer you Digimon which you would have need of, or even find that useful."

"You do not need to give anything to us," Beelzemon shook his head. "We are more than content in the knowledge that we were of some help to you during our stay."

"Be that as it may," Celeborn replied. "If there is anything that we can do…"

"Just one thing for me," Beelzemon replied. "If ever the situation arises where someone here runs into Mervamon, please let her know that I am safe and explain to her why I cannot, for now, return to her side."

"Then it shall be done," Celeborn nodded. "I do not know if such an event will arise, but if it does then we shall pass on your message."

"Thank you," nodded Beelzemon with a smile. "That is something that gives me greater peace of mind now that I must leave."

"As to you, Wisemon," Galadriel said, as she reached up one hand. "It seems that I am making a habit out of this, but I will not lose anything precious to me if I allow you to take a few strands." She neatly plucked, apparently painlessly, three golden hairs from her head and placed them in a small vial that was handed to her by another Elf standing nearby. "I gave such a gift to another on his passage through the Golden Wood not long ago but if you truly desire some kind of sample from one of us then it makes sense that I should distribute it once more."

"Oh my, thank you," Wisemon gushed as he hurried over to take the vial, staring at the hairs inside like they were the most precious things in existence. "I shall study every inch of each strand. I wonder how much Elvish DNA differs from Human DNA… I can compare these to the pieces of Nene's hair that I took from her while she was sleeping when I get back home."

"I'm sorry, what?" blinked Beelzemon. "You took some of Nene's hair?"

"Only a few lengths from one of her ponytails," Wisemon shrugged. "It is not as if she noticed their absence."

"Is that a violation of privacy of some kind?" Beelzemon wondered aloud before he shook his head. "Oh never mind. Let's us be on our way. Thank you for your incredible hospitality and everything else. And farewell, Lady of Light. May you forever shine out on the world to deliver it from the darkness that haunts it." He knelt, and used the same salute that he had done to Galadriel when he had first arrived, holding his hand up with palm out, just like the warriors of old did with their Goddess.

"And farewell to you, Beelzemon," Galadriel smiled. "May your wings remain strong with the wind at your back and your cannon reduce those who deserve its sting to dust. And now, the sparrowhawk is ready to fly whenever you are."

"I am ready. Come on Wisemon. We've got to get moving at long last."

Wisemon sighed. "Very well, but I simply must return in the future to get some samples of these Mallorn trees. They are truly excep…"

"Wisemon…"

"Right, right, sorry. Let's go."

The Elves raised their hands in farewell gestures, with the little girl Sindria waving enthusiastically as Beelzemon and Wisemon lifted themselves into the air on their wings. The sparrowhawk eyed them for a moment before it flexed its own wings and leapt into the air, wheeling around and shooting through the trees. Beelzemon immediately swept after it, Wisemon close behind him, and so their journey began when the sparrowhawk found a gap in the Mallorn tree canopy and soared into the open sky, with the Digimon on its tailfeathers.

Thing progressed quickly after that – the lake-like expanse of golden leaves unfolding beneath them as they soared higher and higher into the sky and pushed across the land of Middle Earth, reaching the edge of the woodland after only a short time and passing out across the plains.

As they rose higher, Beelzemon and Wisemon could both see the incredible landscape unfolding all around them. Behind them lay the huge mountain range that Beelzemon guessed to be the Misty Mountains, where he was supposed to head after he had collected his friends. Why he was meant to head there he didn't know, but Galadriel seemed focused on making sure that he reached a specific point of those mountains by following some road. He supposed he could only wait to find out her reasoning behind it and for now he just had to go with the flow.

But the view before them as they flew east behind the hawk was equally impressive. In the far, far distance, they could see one, huge, single mountain sticking out of the ground like a giant spire. And between that mountain and where they currently were flying was a vast expanse of woodland so huge that it put Lothlorien to shame, and between the woodland and them were large plains and rolling hills that were broken only be a couple of copses and a long winding river that wove its way between those hills and curved around until it almost reached the eastern border of Lothlorien itself.

Beelzemon did not know the names of any of these places. On reflection, he probably should have studied a map or two – surely the Elves must have had a couple in their possession. Instead, he was following a hawk, and when the hawk could lead him no further he was supposed to follow a road. Not exactly navigation that most other people would feel comfortable following, but Beelzemon had the confidence that he was on the right track, and not just because he trusted Galadriel's words. Something about it also just… felt right.

Not that he could explain it of course. Nobody ever could.

But of course, Wisemon suddenly surprised him by saying, "Ah, I think I understand where we must be going now. With the Misty Mountains at our back and heading northeast, I am betting that we are heading towards the Kingdom of Thranduil."

"Sorry?" Beelzemon blinked.

"Yes," Wisemon nodded. "Look, there in the distance is the Lonely Mountain, also know as Erebor and a stronghold for the Dwarves – I wonder if I can get a hair sample from one of their beards… but anyway… the river beneath us is the longest one in Middle Earth, called the Anduin and that great forest there between them is the former Greenwood, now known as Mirkwood."

Beelzemon chuckled. "I take it that you studied a map or two then while you were there."

"Of course. Didn't you?"

"Sad to say, no. I had other things on my mind."

"Well, for me, there is never a time when it is not possible to gain more knowledge and since we are in a whole new world, I could not resist. I very much hope to learn a lot more before all this is over."

"Well, for now, let's just follow this hawk. He knows where he is going. And we can finally get on track with uniting our group once we get where we're going."

So the two of them flared their wings and flapped on, following the raptor's trajectory as it steered its way in the direction of the giant forest beyond.

* * *

And far to the west – way beyond the Misty Mountains that Beelzemon and Wisemon were currently flying away from, the small, blue-armoured, wild-haired little Digimon – Spadamon – stirred. His eye twitched and he rolled over slightly without opening them, his fingers flexing as he struggled to clear the fog within his head and make some sense of things, as well as get rid of the unusual amount of grogginess that he felt.

What had happened? Where was he? What was going on?

And then suddenly his mind was filled with the horrible sound of the rattling breath and the images of the skeletal, rotten hands reaching towards him and the dark hoods, the greenish glow and the faint light emanating from the skull-like face hidden with the hood. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he sprang up with a raucous scream, drawing his sword and slashing it around him wildly, yelling, "Get back! Get back!"

His sword was brought up short with a clang that jarred his hands a little and he saw what appeared to be a short dagger of some description holding it in place. The hilt of the dagger was clutched in a rough, slightly calloused looking hand and he followed the arm upwards to see the face of a tall human male with straggly brown hair and a stern expression crouched beside him.

"Calm down, small one," the Man said. "You are safe here. Those creatures will not follow us to a place like this – they cannot stand the sunlight. Quite literally – it burns them and kills them if they are exposed to too much of it."

Spadamon was still breathing heavily, but he allowed himself to drop back onto his tail, breathing heavily and clutching at his head, as if hoping to banish the thought of those… things… by squeezing it until they poured out of his ears of something. "What… wh-wh-what… w-were those… those things?" he gasped out.

"Barrow Wights," the Man sniffed. "That's what we call them. Undead spirits that haunt the tombs of the long dead kings of the barrows. It is a dreadful, terrible evil that has befallen the Barrow Downs where you were wandering, and on such a place of important history and honour too. Its disgusting that the tombs of such noble leaders of Men have become so besmirched and twisted by the spell of the Barrow Wights, and if I had had my way they would have been driven out long ago. But alas, it is only the sunlight that can damage them, and I have no ability to clear the fog that infests that land as they do now."

"Undead spirits," Spadamon shivered, plunging the tip of his sword into the ground and leaning on it. "And here I thought I got off lucky when I heard about what the others had to go through in the realm of NeoVamdemon. I'm never going to be able to sleep without those things… coming back and haunting me again."

"They certainly don't make the most pleasant thoughts, do they?" the man said dryly.

"How long was I out?" Spadamon asked.

"Over twelve hours," the Man replied. "When I found you, you have been touched by one of the Wights and it was sapping your strength. You are very fortunate indeed that I was travelling in the area. I do not visit the Barrow Downs very often – in fact I only ever pass through when I am on my way to some place and am trying to make up for lost time. It is not a place where the unprepared should tread. Still, I managed to drive off the Wights long enough to grab you and get you to safety where the Wights would not be able to follow without perishing."

"Yes… I remember that now… Well… whatever the case…" Spadamon gasped. "I… I'm in your debt. You saved my life… thank you. Thank you for that. But… who are you?"

The Man raised his eyebrows. "That's funny, because I was going to ask you the same question. As I told you yesterday before you passed out, I am Halabarad – a Ranger of the North. We Rangers mostly wander the wilderness and try and protect the people who live in this land in any way that we can, but I was not expecting to have to rescue something like you when I set out into the Barrow Downs yesterday."

"Well… thanks for that again, Halbarad," Spadamon sighed. "That's the second time, I think, that my life has been saved by a human."

"Human?"

"Yes. That is what you are, right?"

"I am a Man. A Dúnedain Ranger. I do not know anything of these humans of which you speak but I assure you I am not one of them."

Spadamon opened his mouth to protest, asking that wasn't a Man just a way of saying a male human, but realised that that probably wouldn't help any and decided to drop it. "Erm…" he coughed, trying to recover himself. "Those… those Barrow Wight things… what… what would they have done, if they'd caught me?"

"It is perhaps best that you do not know, if you believe that you will already be haunted by nightmares of them," Halbarad replied grimly. "But suffice to say that you would have been taken back into one of their barrows and you would have been very lucky to survive until the morning."

Spadamon shuddered and fought the urge to wretch a little.

Halbarad gave him a few moments to gather himself, before he said, "But I believe that I should be asking you some questions of my own. Most notably, what are you? The only conclusion that I can possibly draw is that you are some kind of strange new breed of Hobbit that I have never seen before, but you are far shorter than even the shortest adult Hobbit I have ever encountered and regardless, you look nothing like them. So, what are you?"

"I'm Spadamon," the little guy pushed himself up onto his feet and held out his hand to shake. "And I'm a Digimon. Have you ever heard of one of those before?"

"No, I cannot say that I have," Halbarad eyed the hand a moment before he took it and shook his, his own hand dwarfing Spadamon's as he shook the arm firmly. "Where does your kind hail from?"

"The Digital World," Spadamon replied. "I came from the Sweets Zone until the entire Digital World was united into one again thanks to the Code Crown. But I don't think I'm there anymore. There aren't any humans… Men… whatever, in the Digital World anymore. And there aren't any Barrow Wights there either. So… I think its safe to say that I am very lost."

"I think we can make that assumption yes," Halbarad nodded dryly.

"Do you know the way of getting to the Digital World?" Spadamon asked hopefully.

"No, I do not," Halbarad was not even sure if it was a real place or Spadamon was making it up, but it did sound strange to him. "And I have been all over this land in Eregion and never come across it… nor have I seen it on any map nor heard about it in any song or tale before, and I like to think I am well versed in those at the very least."

"Maybe I really am in a totally different dimension then."

Halbarad gave Spadamon a strange look before he shook his head and said, "Well, regardless Master Spadamon or whatever you may be, you must be hungry. You have not eaten in some time if I am not mistaken and you won't have found anything edible on those downs. Here, try these." He handed Spadamon some roots and bulbs that he had managed to forage for, and then turned back to the pot that was simmering over the fire nearby. "And I hope that you are not averse to meat, for I am preparing a rabbit stew."

Spadamon eyed the roots and bulbs a little for a moment, unsure what to make of them because he'd certainly never eaten anything that looked remotely like them, but he certainly was hungry.

"Have you got any chocolate?" he asked.

"Any ch… What is… chock-lut?" Halbarad frowned. "I do not know of this. Is it a food?"

"Wow, I must be _really_ lost if you don't know what chocolate is," Spadamon picked up a root. "What about candy canes? Gingerbread? Toffee? Fudge? Ice cream?"

"I have not heard of any of these either," Halbarad looked apologetic. "Are they common where you live?"

"Oh yes. I used to live in a house made of gingerbread," Spadamon grinned.

"A… house… made of bread?" Halbarad stared at him.

"Yeah, and it was pretty neat, though I couldn't stop myself from eating the front door every now and then – it was made of liquorice, you see and I had to make a new one every time."

Halbarad couldn't even begin to fathom half of the things that Spadamon was saying, and was now half convinced that the creature, Digimon, whatever he was, was actually half mad. Nevertheless, he went back to stirring at the small pot over the fire as Spadamon chewed on a couple of the bulbs and found them to be surprisingly delectable.

Should Halbarad even trust the words of this creature? What was it really? None of what it was saying made any sense to him, but he couldn't tell whether that was a reason to trust it or a reason to be wary – because surely a minion of the enemy would not think that such a backstory would suffice as an actual tale, would they?

Halbarad had been on the alert for the enemy actually. He had had news from some of his fellow Rangers that there had been increasing amounts of activity around the area – some Goblin sightings out in the Sun, for one thing, which was extremely rare in itself but certainly so this far away from all the mountain ranges where the Goblins lived. And the fact that the Barrow Wights attacked Spadamon meant nothing about his allegiances – Barrow Wights attacked anyone.

Was he an enemy spy that was trying to bluff his way out of suspicion by doing something so ridiculous that he wouldn't look like one?

Somehow Halbarad severely doubted this, but if there was one thing that he had learned from being a Ranger, it was that you did not trust anyone out here unless you had a very solid reason to. All of the Rangers knew one another by sight, but out here in the wild, there were no rules or civilisation – no laws of any kind. Out here, anyone could be anyone and they could do anything they pleased. And if you trusted too easily, there was a very good chance you ended up dead. Even if the person killing you was just an ordinary thief rather than a proper minion of evil.

But as he put the finishing touches on the rabbit stew, Halbarad perked up slightly. There were some other people who lived nearby that Halbarad knew he could trust extremely well and who were far from ordinary in just about any way you looked at it. Perhaps they could assuage his doubts and help him learn a little more about this Spadamon.

"Well, if you are lost," Halbarad said, lifting up a bowl and spooning a small about of the stew into it, "then perhaps you'd like to tag along with me for a while. I know this land better than most. In fact, I believe there is only one Ranger who knows this place better than I do, and Strider has gone off east and south towards the darker lands."

"Really?" Spadamon's eyes looked bright and thankful as he accepted the bowl the Halbarad was offering him. "That would be neat. I need to try and find out where I am so that I can find my friends – all the other Digimon. But I won't have a clue where I'm going. And last thing I want is to find myself back in those Barrow Downs or some other creepy place."

"Then it is settled," Halbarad nodded. "And not to worry, I know of a couple of people that live nearby that would most certainly be the ones to ask about you and where your… Ditial World is…"

"Digital World," Spadamon snickered. "And that would be great. It will be nice to have a purpose to what I'm doing. And to have someone to talk to besides my sword as I walk along."

"I'm… not much of a talker," Halbarad coughed, which was true, but could also be said of most rangers who all generally kept to themselves. "But very well. Eat up the stew and then we shall set out immediately."

"Aye, aye, governor," Spadamon laughed as he supped on the stew, smacking his lips and the nice taste, which was even better than the bulbs but not as nice as his liquorice front door.

* * *

Once the meal was over, Halbarad packed everything into the small pack that he carried – Rangers barely carried much more than the bare essentials and their weapons – shouldered his bow and quiver of arrows and stepped off, signalling Spadamon to follow him with a flick of his head. "We're heading towards that forest in the distance," he said, pointing at a dark treeline that could be seen on the horizon, perhaps a couple of miles away. "Walk with me. We should be there before long."

"Okay," Spadamon nodded, and hurried to catch up. "If you think that's the way to go then who am I to argue?"

The two of them walked side by side, for Halbarad was not willing to let Spadamon walk behind him just yet but he did not want to let Spadamon know that, because if he was a bad guy then that would make him aware that Halbarad suspected him and if he was a good guy then that suspicion might hurt his feelings. But they made good progress nevertheless, with Halbarad keeping one eye on the trail ahead and the other firmly peering down at his fellow traveller.

It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the woodland, whereupon Spadamon hesitated a little, drawing Halbarad up short. Spadamon was peering at the trees with a slight sense of foreboding, for the trunks were gnarled and bloated and the inside appeared to be very dark. In short, it looked more or less exactly the same as the forest of Fangorn down South, where unbeknownst to him Shoutmon was sitting and waiting for something to happen.

"You… want me to go in there?" he asked.

"Yes," nodded Halbarad.

"It looks… kinda dark and creepy," Spadamon shivered.

"There is nothing to fear in that forest as long as you stick close to the river," Halbarad pointed to the strip of water that was running out from the trees nearby. "Granted if you stray from there you might just find yourself in trouble but if you do not then you will be absolutely fine. I have entered The Old Forest many times. It's trees may be hostile on occasion, but the river is immovable."

"Well… okay… are the people you're looking for in there?"

"Of course," nodded Halbarad. "They've lived here for as long as I can remember, and as long as you're with them, nothing in that place can threaten you. Come on, let's go."

Spadamon swallowed a little nervously but drew up alongside Halbarad again as they entered the tree-line. And he found that the Ranger was right. While the forest looked deep and dark in the distance, when you were by the river it seemed to be very lush, green and open, like how a proper woodland should be. There was an air of sanctity and security about the place, while the distant shadows did seem much more threatening.

* * *

Halbarad kept walking, leading him on across the bank of the river until Spadamon could no longer see the edge of the forest. He was still nervous and he was about to ask Halbarad if he was sure they were going the right way and if they were how much longer would it take… when he heard singing in the distance ahead… a deep voice coming from somewhere beyond the trees upriver and singing words that made, literally, no sense at all to Spadamon:-

"Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!  
Ring a dong! Hop along! Fal lal the willow!  
Tom Bom! Jolly Tom! Tom Bombadillo!"

Halbarad chuckled. "That will be one of them right there," he said. "Old Tom Bombadil is out and about like always, enjoying his life."

Spadamon frowned as the deep voice returned, along with rustling footsteps that grew louder as he and Halbarad drew closer.

"Bombadil dances on. Truly a merry chap!  
Always there to greet the day, with a feather in his cap!  
Roots sunken, trees tall and the river winding,  
Who knows what merry folk today he shall be finding?  
Perhaps a squirrel in a tree, or a duck on water,  
All friends of Bombadil and the River Daughter,  
Maybe even a surprise, to this jolly fellow,  
Why just two days ago he saw a bird that's yellow,  
Flying high above it was, in the sunlight gleaming,  
Making a faint whooshing sound, leaving trails steaming,  
As brightly coloured as his boots, truly astounding,  
Wonder if I'll see its like today while I am bounding,  
Or maybe just a wise old owl, or a deer grazing,  
Whatever Old Tom comes across, he finds it amazing.  
So let us sing and dance along, for its nearly springtime,  
Forest let me hear your song, for you can hear me sing mine."

"Er…" Spadamon muttered. "Doesn't sound like this person is a very wise man to me."

"Well, you do not know him. Old Bombadil is the Master of Water, Wood and Hill, or so he claims," Halbarad pointed out.

Spadamon still looked dubious but followed Halbarad further forward and, once they rounded the next corner, they both saw the singer. Spadamon was utterly bemused at what he saw. He looked like a human, but he was shorter and stouter than Halbarad, with a massive white beard. But he was not a Dwarf either – he was too tall for that (although Spadamon had never seen a Dwarf so this thought did not run through his head).

He was wearing a bright blue jacket with equally bright blue trousers, along with boots that were a vivid yellow that somehow did not clash with the rest of his outfit, including his hat, which sat perched firmly on his white haired head and had a similarly white swan feather sticking out of the side.

And the man was dancing round merrily and singing at the top of his voice still, and Spadamon could make very little sense of anything he said.

"O'er water, wood and hill I go, Tom Bombadillo,  
On stones my feet skip and hop, in wind my beard does billow,  
I make sure that no-one has been ate by Old Man Willow,  
Til night falls and I return to rest head on my pillow."

"Hail, Bombadil!" Halbarad called as he walked over to him. "It's been a long time. I see that you have lost none of the spring in your step my friend."

The man whirled around and his face split into a beam at the sight of the Ranger and he practically skipped over to him and seized him by the hand, shaking it thoroughly. "Put it there, Halbarad old chum. Its surely been a while since you set foot in my forest. Still wondering the old hills and dales I bet. The kind of life I like myself."

"Indeed," nodded Halbarad. "But I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I've brought some company with me that I think you might be interested in."

Bombadil looked down at Spadamon, who was leaning away from him in slight bemusement. His face held the same enormous grin as he lashed down with inhuman speed and seized Spadamon's hand, shaking it so thoroughly that Spadamon was practically flicked off the ground. "Nice to meet you, little thing. Never seen nought like you before. I was hoping for another surprise today and look what I come across. Another strange creature, like that bird thing I espied in the sky not two days hence."

"Bird thing?" Halbarad frowned. "What bird thing?"

"Did you not hear of me singing of it shortly afore?" Bombadil asked. "It was a large bird, high in the sky and as yellow as the boots. It was shining brightly as it shot overhead high above the canopy. Never seen anything like it before. It was even trailing some faint bits of steam behind it."

Halbarad frowned, having never heard of a bird like that before, but Spadamon's eyes widened and he cried. "Yellow bird? That sounds like Sparrowmon. She's a friend of mine. She was here two days ago?"

"A long way above the forest it was. Didn't get much of a good look at it, but it was like nothing I've ever seen, and I've been around for a very long time no, so I have. But come, come, you're guests on my land the pair of you. It's only right that I entreat you to the full hospitality. Come on, come on. Let's head back to the house."

And with that, he bounded away, spinning and skipping at the same time and somehow managing to not trip over his feet even once, though Spadamon couldn't for the life of him see how he was doing it. And, naturally, he broke into song again as they followed behind him.

"Old Tom Bombadil takes guests back to his dwelling,  
Where doubtless they will eat so much their bellies will be swelling,  
Come now little one and meet the River Daughter,  
Her good eats and sweetness mean that many now have sought her,  
Goldberry, Goldberry, Tom is coming home again,  
With guests to the table and one thinks that he is insane,  
But Tom's a jolly man, and there's nought that can offend him,  
With good food in his tum, maybe the creature can befriend him."

"Wow… he's… eccentric," muttered Spadamon.

"That's just the way he is," Halbarad replied. "I have never once seen Bombadil looking unhappy. It would not suit him. But come, he is offering us hospitality as he always does when I pass this way. And like I said, if there's any that can answer your question nearby, then it will be him."

* * *

Tom lead them to a large, charming looking wooden house set in the bank of a river, and waiting out on the front doorstep for them – perhaps having heard Tom's constant singing – was a beautiful woman who looked to be very human indeed, with long golden hair and a green dress with little rivulets of silver running across it, as well as gold belt around her waist.

"And that," Halbarad nodded towards her. "Is Goldberry. The River Daughter that he keeps singing about."

"River Daughter?" Spadamon asked, bemused.

"I wouldn't expect too much detail from them if I were you," Halbarad chuckled. "I've asked them many times about where they come from and who or what they even are, but they've always been extremely vague about it. It seems that they like to remain mysterious. Tom wants told me that it's more fun that way."

And that was the point where both Tom and Goldberry began to sing at the same time, with Goldberry's lovely soprano notes blending perfectly with Bombadil's tenor ones.

"Welcome oh good travellers, to our dwelling by the water,  
The residence of Bombadil and the River Daughter,  
Leave all troubles outside and your boots upon the doormat,  
And put away your sword, you will have no need to draw that,  
Cakes and stew and vegetables, we will not leave you starving,  
And if you so desire there's a turkey here for carving,  
Enjoy yourselves and come on in, have no more need to worry,  
And we sincerely hope you won't be leaving in a hurry."

"Excellent voice as usual, my dear," Tom Bombadil laughed as he danced up to his place on the threshold.

"And who could question your own singing talent?" Goldberry laughed out loud. "And oh my, the company we have this time is odd indeed. Unique to all the land, I would guess."

"Possibly," Bombadil nodded. "But possibly not. Come on in, come on in and tell us now what ails you, if any. You said this was no social visit after all."

Halbarad and Spadamon stepped inside and Spadamon's eyes widened at the spread that had been laid out for them already, as if Goldberry had been preparing for their arrival for a few hours.

"Your generosity is as boundless as always, Bombadil and Fair Lady Goldberry," Halbarad nodded to them as he sat down and picked up a piece of cheese. "And now, I would very much like for you to help my small companion in any way that you can. I encountered him on the Barrow Downs under attack by some of those Wights that rule the roost out there."

Bombadil frowned for a brief instant but brightened up again almost immediately. "A sad fact indeed that we have such creatures so close to our borders. But at least you were rescued eh, little one?"

"Well, yes," Spadamon nodded, picking up a piece of bread. "But do you really think you can help me?"

"Oh I certainly intend to try," Bombadil laughed. "For what use are you if you cannot do what is right for other people, eh? Eh? That's what I always ask myself. But first order of business, what exactly are you? Are you what I think you might possibly be?"

"I… I don't know," Spadamon muttered. "What do you think I might possibly be?"

"Why a Digimon of course," Bombadil laughed. "That is the most likely explanation I have."

Spadamon blinked, as did Halbarad. "A Digimon?" Spadamon asked. "Yes, that's exactly what I am. But how did you know that? Have you ever been to the Digital World?"

"Never heard of it before just now," Bombadil said brightly, helping himself to a small bun.

"Eh?" Spadamon asked. "But… how can you have heard of a Digimon but never heard of the Digital World?"

"Has there ever been a Digital World in Middle Earth?" Bombadil asked.

"Well… no…"

"Then I won't have heard of it," Bombadil said brightly. "But I know about the Digimon, or at least a little bit about them. Not much really, just that they exist and that there are a large number of them – over twenty-five different kinds of them as a matter of fact, that have all been in this dimension as of a few days ago and all of which arrived at pretty much the same time. I also know that they all look very different, albeit in some cases slightly similar, to any of the resident creatures of Middle Earth and that none of the ones that have landed in our universe are evil or have evil intent towards us."

"Wow… that was… to the point and very quick," Spadamon remarked.

"Well why waffle on about things you don't know when you can tell what you do know, that's what I always say."

"No it isn't," Goldberry laughed.

"No, you're right, it isn't. But I should say it more often."

Halbarad looked mildly surprised. "Then you're saying… what exactly? That this guy really does come from an entirely different dimension?"

"That's about the size of it," Bombadil nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"Wait, does that mean you thought I was lying?" Spadamon frowned at the Dúnedain Ranger.

"Not lying per se," Halbarad replied. "But such a tale can only be taken with a pinch of salt. Never before in the history of this world, not even in the Undying Lands as far as I know, has there been any creature from an entirely different world visit our own."

"You would be right," Bombadil nodded. "Not until a few days ago at the very least. I felt the disturbance and the change in the world quite clearly, and I knew immediately what was going on. This is the will of Eru himself, just as it was that he brought Gandalf back to life after he killed the Balrog some time ago."

"Gandalf died?!" Halbarad yelled. "And he killed a Balrog and got brought back to life?"

"By Eru for that last bit, yes," Bombadil nodded. "I could sense it all happening. And I know the reason the Digimon were put here too – to help us fight this war and to help them get over some of their own issues. But that really is the extent of my knowledge. I have no idea what any of these Digimon look like, except for the one sitting on my table right now. And I know that another one is yellow and can fly, but as to the others and where they are, I don't have the foggiest. I would probably know if they were on my land somewhere but alas, none of them currently are except for you… what was your name my good fellow."

"Spadamon."

"Yes, Spadamon. How rude of me not to ask sooner. Anyway, you need not worry yourself, Halbarad, for you have got seated next to you a perfectly trustworthy being, and little fighter too if I'm not mistaken."

"I could never understand why most people in the world seem to find fighting so necessary," Goldberry sighed. "Why can the world never just get along? Even here, Old Man Willow seems to find it necessary to mislead and chew up anybody who passes by the can't control him, like my Tom can."

"Who's Old Man Willow?" blinked Spadamon.

"A big old Huorn that lives in the middle of the forest," Bombadil replied. "One of most misbehaved trees you could ever hope to find anywhere. Old grouch. But regardless, I presume you'll be heading on back to your fighting and battling and other nonsensical stuff right, Halbarad. That's what you Rangers do."

"It's not _all_ we do," Halbarad replied. "But essentially yes."

"Slow down, slow down," Spadamon waved his hands. "What are you talking about? What do you mean we Digimon were put into this world to help you? Help you with what?"

"Well, presumably all this malarkey involving Sauron in the East," Bombadil replied, waving his hat airily. "Rather irritable guy, lives in a dark fortress near to a volcano and seems bent on making sure that he gets everything under his thumb. Extremely bothersome I suppose, but then again, he'll never get to me or my wife. We're perfectly fine here."

"Yes, you certainly are," Halbarad nodded.

"Shouldn't the fact that a Dark Lord's trying to take over the world be more… alarming?" Spadamon asked.

"Why should it? I'm sure the whole thing will blow over, Bombadil replied, waving his hand airily. "Now, would you like some eggs? The thrushes that live in the area always make sure to lay an extra one each for us, which often means we have more than we know what to do with."

"Thank you, Tom Bombadil. You're generosity is boundless," Halbarad nodded diplomatically, leaving Spadamon hopelessly confused.

"So, what was this about you having to go off to fighting?" Spadamon asked.

"Well," Halbarad muttered. "Now that I have ascertained that you _are_ in fact, not an enemy, I suppose it would do no harm to tell you. I have received communication from some of my fellow Rangers of increasing numbers of goblins, minions of Sauron, in the surrounding lands. It is our belief that they may be planning to move in en masse and attempt to attack the Shire or Bree or some other settlement in the area, so we have been gathering together to set up a perimeter and do our duty as Dúnedain to protect those places from the Goblin threat."

"You're going to war?" Spadamon asked, rather alarmed.

"Hopefully not, but probably yes," Halbarad replied. "But you need not be a part of it. You are more than capable of stopping off here, if you like. Old Tom Bombadil surely would not mind a little more company for a while until you figure out what you want to do, but meanwhile I have duties to attend to."

Spadamon frowned and poked a hole in some cheese with his small sword. "Well…" he muttered. "I'm not really a member of Xros Heart. Just an honorary one, but I didn't help them to fight against the Bagra Army very much. Not after they liberated my home at any rate… sometimes that's made me feel a little guilty. Xros Heart were all so brave and so selfless. As in their very motto, they never turned their backs on people. And I formed a DigiXros with Shoutmon X4 and still didn't join the party, which made me feel, at times, that I had turned my back on _them_."

"That must have been hard," Halbarad observed, though he had not understood three quarters of the things that Spadamon had just said.

Spadamon clenched his fist slightly and muttered. "But I… I have been thrown into this situation just as much as the rest of Shoutmon's court. So even if I had the option, I don't think I could do it this time. I'll… I'll go with you. I'll help out where I can. I… I won't feel like I've turned my back this time, even if I'm not very helpful. This time, I will fight."

Halbarad stared at Spadamon for a couple of seconds, but then lifted up a hand and said, "If that is the case, then I am glad to have you on board… Spadamon."

Spadamon grinned and grasped the hand, which still dwarfed his, but it was a comradely gesture.

"Though, I have to ask," Spadamon lowered his voice. "How did that guy know so much about our situation?" he nodded towards Bombadil where and Goldberry were practically dancing around each other as they prepared the eggs.

"I really don't know," chuckled Halbarad. "Tom Bombadil is an unfathomable riddle at the best of times. I don't know what he is, but he is neither Man nor Dwarf. And I don't know how he knows the things he does. He just knows them and that is all there is to it. I have never been able to work out exactly how he can know things that he's never clapped eyes on or been told by anyone, but that's just the way he is. But he's a solid person and dependable if you're in a jam."

"But why is he not… you know… more worried about the fact that there could be a giant war going on?"

"Probably because he thinks it just doesn't pertain to him," Halbarad replied. "It just doesn't occur to him that the war could affect him and because of that, he doesn't think it to be important. He's not even being selfish when it comes to the lives of all those other people out there that will be lost as a result of the conflict. He just… doesn't understand the point of the war so he doesn't think about it. Like I said, he's a riddle. Best not to trying fathoming it."

"But…" Spadamon tried fathoming it and gave up. "What happens if this Dark Lord guy comes here and attack him? _Then_ would he be worried?"

"I don't even know if Sauron _could_ attack Bombadil," Halbarad shrugged. "I don't know if he could get into his land or if he could win if they fought. Bombadil is pretty powerful in his own way but he never leaves the borders of his own land, so unless Sauron comes here himself, we would likely never know who would win. But I would very much hope that Sauron never gets this far west."

"I… just… fair enough," Spadamon sighed. "I can't work it out."

"Like I said, don't try," Halbarad muttered. "Bombadil will forever remain a puzzle to everyone but himself and Goldberry."

"I do enjoy a good puzzle," Bombadil skipped over to them. "Let's sing and be merry now before you have to leave and attend to your Ranger-y duties."

And naturally, this is when he and Goldberry broke into song again:-

"Come now and eat your fill of birds eggs and apple pies,  
We'll even chop you onions until water leaks out from our eyes,  
"Gorge, guzzle, stuff and gulp until you fill your tummy,  
We have a choice of everything that you will find most yummy."

"Is there anything they don't have a song for?" Spadamon asked.

"I have yet to find a subject," Halbarad chuckled.

* * *

And there you go, my first chapter back after my temporary hiatus, and what a challenging one to start with. For those of you not familiar with the character Tom Bombadil appears in the Lord of the Rings books, but was cut from the movies because he had a very large passage that contributed very little to the overall storyline, if at all. But, as he is technically still a part of Middle Earth, I thought that he deserved a mention somewhere in my work, and the fact that he sings all the time… yeah, that was hard. That and getting his character as close as I could to the one in the books. And I'm still not convinced I got it right.

But anyway, back I am, and see you all soon with another update from QOTG. Providing real life does not try and bite me in the backside again.

Oh, and whoever it was that was sending me multiple guest reviews for the last chapter under different names, all of which were about Mervamon and Beelzemon having a child together and trying to make me think lots of people loved the idea a lot (including posing as some of my other guest reviewers to leave similar messages) – stop it. You weren't fooling anyone. Do not make me disable guest reviews because there are a couple of guest reviewers who have been with me a long time that I don't want to lose if necessary. As stated in this chapter, Mervamon and Beelzemon will one day have a child together, but not in this story and not for several years of writing at LEAST!

TTFN!

* * *

Next time…

Back at the Withered Heath, Cyberdramon continues his vigil while watching out for Dracomon amongst the dragon population. But events are about to be set further into motion when a stranger arrives at the Withered Heath wishing to speak to Drogoth the Dragon Lord. What can this mean?

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 34 : Dragon Deal**


	34. Dragon Deal

Hello everybody. For those of you who read my other story, Quest of the Gods, you will know that the reason for my long delay was that I accidentally deleted a lot of my coursework that I did at the start of the month and had to redo it. For those of you who don't, you know it now. And this chapter was two days later than I would have liked but unfortunately I have a life and friends and I got distracted by things a couple of times so… yeah, it's out now. I hope you read and enjoy this long awaited chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 34:- Dragon Deal**

* * *

Dracomon shook his head for what was probably the thirtieth time in the last ten minutes, as if hoping that it would somehow clear his brain and let him get rid of the strange sense of unease that was rippling through him. It didn't work. It never worked. The strange feeling on indecision just refused to leave him alone.

He'd had it ever since yesterday evening, after he had arrived at this place – the Withered Heath. After being convinced to stay by Drogoth the Dragon Lord, who seemed to be a relatively wise person, he just hadn't been able to stop it. It was like a churning in his stomach and a jerkiness in his legs, as if they were trying to tell him that he should be up and doing something instead of just… sitting here and waiting for something to happen. And he didn't get it at all.

There was some rational part of Dracomon's brain that was saying that they should get out there and leave, get as far away from this place as they could and try and search for all of their friends.

But that part of him was a small minority – the rest of it was being smothered by the feeling of being home, and doing what Drogoth suggested – staying here where it was safe from the people of this world who had it out for Dragon-kind, and being amongst his own kind, or at least as close to his own kind as it was possible to get out of creatures that were not Digimon. And it just made so much sense to Dracomon – everything that Drogoth said was so obviously the right choice.

So why was there a tiny part of him that was telling him that this was stupid and that this was not what he was meant to be doing.

He was stuck in an alien world. There was nothing that he _should_ be doing.

_Except finding your friends,_ the part of his brain that was resisting reasoned.

_Most of them are more powerful than me,_ Dracomon yelled at it mentally. _They'll all be fine. I don't need to do anything but fulfil his Lord's wishes._

And he figuratively squashed the resisting part of him down and shook his head again, as if hoping the motion would cause the parts of him that were arguing with the rest of him to splurge out of his ears or something weird like that.

Dracomon looked up from the rock that he was sitting on and surveyed the Withered Heath once more. It just felt… natural for him to be here amongst the Dragons. It reminded him a lot of the time he had lived in the Dragon Zone before the Bagra Army had come along and taken everything over. Everything had been so calm then before Dorbickmon rose up and took everything over.

* * *

Of course, Dorbickmon had always been a major presence even in the Dragon Zone, and Dracomon had heard a lot about him, but he was a very young dragon. Apparently Dorbickmon had once been more of an unofficial ruler – the strongest Dragon in the Zone by some distance but who normally let the Dragons get on with their own lives while he lived in the mountains. He'd had a lot of servants of course – at least half the Dragons in the Zone were his underlings, but the other half, the half that Dracomon had been in, were free Digimon.

But even the free Digimon feared him, for when he did make occasional visits into their area for whatever reason, none of them dared to speak out against him, for apparently long before Dracomon was born, Dorbickmon had been a lot more violent than he was now, and had enjoyed coming down to start a fight for no reason other than the simple fact that he could and he enjoyed watching things go up in flames, and even then he had openly looked down on Dragons he considered weak. But he was not an overlord. Not at that point anyway. He'd been a bully, but not a tyrant.

But Dracomon had been born into the time when he was much calmer and the little Dragon had heard he'd had a mate at one point, and that she was the reason that he had become like that, for she had not been vindictive or evil at all. But Dracomon had never seen her, so he had absolutely no idea if the story was real or just made up. And if it was real, then he had no idea what had happened to her. But the idea of it being real was scary because… well… it was Dorbickmon.

And then, suddenly, everything had changed with the arrival of the Bagra Army. Dorbickmon had not been seen for some time by the free Dragons and they were greatly enjoying this fact, for even though he had not come and burnt anything for months on end now they were still scared of him.

And then Dorbickmon and his minions, with the reinforcements from the Bagra Army had suddenly swept through the land, coming out of nowhere to thunder down upon the free Dragons. Dorbickmon stood at the helm, with his trusted lieutenant, Fanglongmon, behind him, and Dracomon could clearly remember the rage in Dorbickmon's eyes, like they were literally aflame, as he had stood up on a giant stone ruin and stretched a clawed hand upwards to where the Bagra Army's flag flew above his head.

"Now begins a new era!" Dorbickmon had roared. "From now on, the days of peace are at an end. Henceforth, I am the single ruler of this Zone and I answer only to one – Lord Bagramon himself. Every one of you here are now my underlings, and you will answer to me, or you will perish! There is no place in the new order for anyone who defies me, Dorbickmon, Death General of the Bagra Army. Is that understood?"

Dracomon and a lot of the other Dragons had been terrified by the hardened eyes of Dorbickmon's forces but they had all agreed, even Dracomon, for they had not wanted to die. And so Dorbickmon became a tyrant – total ruler of the realm. He had a castle set up from him at the foot of the mountains and he had ruled everything with a fist of iron scales.

And what had made Dracomon shudder the most about the whole thing was how easily the other Dragons, the previously free Dragons, had adapted to their new life, following Dorbickmon's orders. For a long time the Dragon Zone had still been on its own and cut off from the rest of the Digital World, but Dorbickmon still had plenty of chances to spread his evil.

Anyone who failed him or spoke out against him was publicly executed, by the other Dragons, and Dracomon could only watch in horror as some of his own acquaintances, once free Dragons, murdered other formerly free Dragons he also knew at the drop of Dorbickmon's hand.

It was a hideous nightmare made reality, and Dracomon had long yearned for the chance to return to the way things was, but he'd never dared to speak up about it. He knew he'd surely get executed and he was treated with scorn enough for being so weak. Dorbickmon openly loathed him and other small Dragons, but kept them around in the hope that one day they would actually become strong. And Dracomon's other friends, all formerly free Dragons, had begun to spurn him for being weak too, and the other weak Dragons grew into stronger ones, leaving him, the little idealist, the only weak Dragon left in Dorbickmon's entire army.

And everything had gotten worse after the Dragon Zone had merged with several other zones to make the Dragon Land, because now the Dragons had an open stock of other Digimon that they could murder, burn and oppress and the entire army except for Dracomon seemed to take to it with a will. Dracomon studied their faces as they did so, hoping for some kind of reluctance in their gaze, but there was none. In fact, they seemed to enjoy it, as if Dorbickmon's ways of thinking had affected them all.

For all Dracomon knew, it had, because shortly before that happened, Dorbickmon had been introduced to the Darkness Loader and several of the Dragons had merged with him on several occasions. But he never merged with Dracomon. He would consider such a thing pointless, for Dracomon could add no benefit to his strength, which was already impressive.

Dracomon had been miserable, digging his tunnels alone to try and get away from it all when the killing started, and watching the battles that Dorbickmon's army had with Blue Flare from afar, admiring the opposing Dragons – MetalGreymon, Cyberdramon and Deckerdramon, for what they were doing, but never plucking up the courage to go and join them either because Kiriha was like Dorbickmon in that he also valued only strength.

And then Shoutmon had arrived and for the first time, a Dragon was actively trying to protect him, and then, only then, had he been able to work up the courage to actively do something against Dorbickmon.

He shuddered. Recalling it all was unpleasant in the extreme.

He'd often wondered what would have become of him, and what he would have done with his life, if Dorbickmon had not suddenly sided with the Bagra Army and taken over everything. But he suspected that he would never have actually met Shoutmon and Kiriha and become a member of the group. And to be honest, the thought of that wasn't a pleasant one at all.

* * *

But now, here in this mountain valley, with large winged Dragons, most of which looked more than capable of taking on many of Dorbickmon's minions with ease due to their size and obvious strength, Dracomon was reminded greatly of how things had once been in hi Dragon Zone. Yes, there was a Dragon Lord here in the form of Drogoth, but there didn't appear to be any army of militia and none of the Dragons were attending to duties given to them by a superior as far as he could see.

They were mostly going around and doing whatever they wanted to do. Whatever that may be – flying round the mountain peaks, breathing fire over their own scales because they claimed that it was relaxing, flicking boulders with their tails or just dozing off like giant, scaly cats. Life seemed to be quite easy here, and Dracomon found himself feeling quite relaxed about it all. It was nostalgic.

But then, the little Dragon looked up at his larger partner. Cyberdramon was standing tall on a large boulder nearby, his spear still propped up next to him as he continued to stare around him with blank face. Not that his face could really be anything _but_ blank, but the point stood. Despite being in such a homely and relaxed place as this, he still had yet to lower his guard. If anything, it had increased since they had got here yesterday and Dracomon wondered yet again whether he had slept at all last night.

"Come on, Cyberdramon," he called over. "Why don't you take a load off for a bit? You're acting as though we could be attacked at any minute."

Cyberdramon heard him, but he made no response whatsoever – he remained staring out around the rest of the valley, his head rotating slowly from side to side, making him look eerily like some kind of strange security camera. It was at times like this that Dracomon wondered exactly how much of Cyberdramon was machine and how much of him was Dragon. He'd certainly never encountered a Dragon that was anything like him before or after meeting the guy.

He supposed Cyberdramon was just paranoid by nature and he turned back around. Despite how comfortable he felt here now that he'd squashed that feeling of uneasiness (seriously, what was with that) he still hadn't really approached any of the other Dragons. He put it down to nerves, because they didn't seem bothered by his presence in the least. A couple of the younger Drakes had started moving in his direction once or twice to have a look at him, but they were usually warded away by a large green-scaled Dragon that snorted flames in their direction and said, "Get back to your mothers, hatchlings."

And Dracomon could also see Drogoth some distance away, reclined on his boulder outcropping that allowed him to stay above the others that were on the ground. He was also casting his sight over everything with a calm regal stance and every now and then his gaze would pass over the newcomers.

His orange-eyed gaze was intense and Dracomon almost felt himself shuddering a little whenever the Dragon Lord looked at him, but Drogoth only seemed to offer him a friendly looking nod or a Dragon equivalent of a smile, which looked more like a toothy smirk, before he turned away and ignored them again.

All in all, Dracomon felt rather content here, though he could do without the snow. Why did Dragons live in such a cold place here anyway?

Then he remembered what Drogoth had said about the Dwarves and the Men that oppressed their kind and drove them to live in places like this and he felt his blood boil slightly. How dare they do such a thing to Dragon kind? It was wrong! It was abominable. It was…

Further thought was cut off from a moment as a fast wind picked up out of nowhere – a wind that Dracomon recognised as being created by the wings of another Dragon. He looked up to see the copper form of Chrysophylax, the Dragon that had guided them to this area in the first place, gliding down to land in the middle of the Heath and hail Drogoth.

"Dragon Lord," he called. "It appears that we will shortly be having a visitor."

"Oh?" Drogoth looked across at him, his clawed feet gripping a large boulder. "What type of visitor?"

"Man-shaped," Chrysophylax replied. "Long, dark robes and riding on a black horse. Smelt a bit funny but it was definitely a Man of some description."

"Oh it's been a while since I tasted the flesh of Man," said a nearby white Dragon with a slight chuckle. Drogoth promptly shot this Dragon an intense warning look that made him falter before he could say any more.

"Should we attempt to do something about this, my Lord?" Chrysophylax asked lazily. "It would be relatively easy to char him into the side of a mountain. And if he keeps riding then he should be with us in a matter of minutes. He's riding with intent."

Drogoth yawned and shook his head. "No," he replied. "You shall do nothing. A lone Man travelling into their area would be suicidal if he was thinking of causing us trouble. And besides, my curiosity is peaked. Let him approach. If it turns out he is here to carry out some deluded mission of fighting us then I shall take care of him myself. But I do not believe that that is his goal at all. I will hear what he has to say."

Many of the Dragons had become aware of the conversation and were moving closer towards Drogoth's rock, as if waiting for something to happen curiously. Dracomon plucked up the courage and inched forwards a little, heading over amongst the throng of scaly bodies and being careful not to get trodden on as he tried to find a good spot to see what was going on. Cyberdramon followed him at a distance, uncomfortable with him being amongst such a crowd and as he approached, Drogoth nodded to a pair of large winged Fire-drakes, who moved in towards either side of the tall spear-wielding Digimon, keeping a fair distance between them but nonetheless flanking him.

Dracomon found a spot on a rock in front of the green Dragon from before, surrounded by several little Drakes of various sizes, but beyond a quick glance, none of the drakes paid the newcomer any attention themselves. They were curious to see what was going to happen themselves.

* * *

They didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later and a small dot appeared at the edge of the valley from between the mountains to the south and was speeding towards them, despite the audience that was so clearly waiting for him. A couple of Dragons now descended out of the sky to land on cliffs overhead where they too could see and hear everything as the figure approached, and as it did, Dracomon was able to make out the outline of the human-shaped being on horseback.

But Chrysophylax had been right. It didn't smell like any human he'd ever seen. And it certainly didn't look like one either.

As the figure approached the waiting Dragons it slowed down, until the horse was walking slowly. The beast was seemingly unaffected by the presence of the giant, hulking, fire-breathing creatures all around it, and Dracomon felt slightly cheered when he saw the horse had bright, red eyes. Was that natural?

But if the horse looked unnatural, its rider was something else entirely, in a category of his own. He wore long dark robes that flowed down on either side of the horse, but Dracomon could see hints of armour underneath it, particularly at the chest and feet areas though it was probably safe to assume the rest of his was covered in some kind of armour as well. But it was his head that was most alarming, because most of his face could not be seen. This was because his head the entire top half of his head was covered with a massive, many plated helmet with three huge prongs at the top, the two at the side holding up brown cloth that looked like a makeshift hood.

But the helmet did not have any holes for eyes whatsoever, leading Dracomon to wonder how he could possibly see. But then again, he had seen an Angemon before, which also had a helmet that covered his eyes, and he seemed to be able to see just fine, so he supposed this guy might be able to as well.

The only part of his face that was not covered by the metal helmet was his chin and mouth. And to be honest, Dracomon wished that that was covered up too because the mouth was the single most disturbing part of him. It gave Dracomon the willies just to look at it.

This was because its lips where crusted and scabby and pulled back so far that it didn't look humanely possible, to reveal blackened gums and enormously long rotten looking teeth – each one twice as long as an average human tooth at the very least. But the most horrible part were the cuts around his mouth, several of them starting wide at his lips and tapering off to points. They were evenly spaced, which made Dracomon wonder if he had intentionally done this to himself, and the worst part of all was when he moved his mouth, the cuts moved with it, widening and narrowing with the motion of his lips.

This was not the image of a human that Dracomon wanted in his mind.

The man, if this was a man at all, seemed totally unconcerned by the fact he was now surrounded by enormous creatures that could flatten him with a single footstep or turn him to ash with a single breath. Instead his horse marched over towards Drogoth directly and stopped before him, both steed and rider giving off an air of superiority. Drogoth regarded them dryly, leaning his head down to sniff at the horse, which finally looked a little skittish at his movement, but the rider merely flicked its reigns and it calmed down.

"Who's that?" Dracomon whispered, not really wanting to draw attention to himself. He failed, and he yelped as the head of the Man snapped around to look at him so fast it was a wonder his neck didn't break. Some of the drakes snickered at him for it, but Dracomon was seriously creeped out by this man… thing… It had amazing hearing to be able to hear and pinpoint where he was standing from that alone.

Dracomon wondered whether he really was totally blind and could get around via his impressive hearing only.

The Man regarded him with head cocked creepily for several moments before he turned back to look at Drogoth instead, as if Dracomon was of no more concern, much to Dracomon's relief.

When the Man spoke, it was a deep voice that seemed to come from the back of his throat. "My Master, Sauron the Great, extends his hand of friendship to you, Lord of the Dragons, Drogoth."

"So you are a minion of Sauron," Drogoth smirked. "I assumed you would be and I wondered when one of you might be coming. I must say you are here earlier than I thought you would be. I assumed it would be a month or two yet before he saw the need to pay us a visit."

"Indeed. I am the Mouth of Sauron, his swiftest and strongest of messengers. Everything I do is in service to his Greatness and wherever I go, it is by his direct command. The words I speak are practically his own."

"A fancy title," Drogoth mused. "But a fitting one since I hear that Sauron does not actually have a mouth these days. It makes sense that he would need someone else to fill that role while he's staring at everything from on high."

"You know much of my Master's position," the Mouth of Sauron noted – if he was offended by Drogoth's natural nonchalance then he did not show it.

"We hear things. Even up here. We occasionally get some information out of a passing goblin before we eat them. But I was under the impression that things had not really got started down in the South. There was much preparation left to be done before you and your forces decided to take action."

"Times change," the Mouth of Sauron replied. "I will not lie to you, mighty Drogoth, but my Lord Sauron was hoping to go a while yet before calling on you. Your power is phenomenal, easily the strongest that he can gain throughout the entire of Middle Earth, but there are now few of you, and he would normally have left it until the spoils of victory were more certain before he tried to bring you out of your mountain refuge once more."

Drogoth chuckled. "Do not try and play me for a fool, messenger. I am well aware that Sauron would not care how many of us fell in battle so long as we helped to attain a victory for him. What you really mean is that he thinks us as wild and unruly and he would normally wait for a time where he believes he would better control us. Am I right?"

The Mouth of Sauron's lips pulled back in that hideous way of his and he let out a noise that sounded like a single laugh combined with a slight yawn. It was a very obscure noise, but Dracomon could tell that he was somewhat amused.

"Truly you are wise, Dragon Lord, to anticipate this. But in that case, surely you must know it is only because of your raw power that Sauron was hesitant to call on you from the start. He has some very specific plans for some parts of Middle Earth you see, and you Dragons have always had a penchant for… doing things your own way."

"That is true," Drogoth thrummed in the base of his chest, resting his head down on the rock with a chuckle. "We answer to nobody but ourselves. We certainly do not answer to Sauron. We fly where we choose and eat where we like."

"And yet you are holed up in these mountains like rats trapped between the paws of a cat," the Mouth of Sauron observed.

"Careful, Chops of Sauron," Drogoth raised a scaly brow. "You would be wise to consider your words a little. The word of Sauron may come through you, but it is not Sauron who is standing before me, and there is little to stop me from reducing you to a few particles of ash floating away in the wind if I so choose."

The Mouth of Sauron had the graciousness to look a little nervous at Drogoth's words.

"As it happens," the Dragon yawned, "We merely live in this desolate area because we choose to. It is a safe place to sleep and raise our slow-growing young. If one day we decide it is time to venture back into the South lands then we will in the beat of a heart. And whether that day is soon or not… that obviously depends on many factors, does it not?"

"Agreed," the Mouth of Sauron nodded.

"Now then," Drogoth peered at the significantly smaller being. "Tell me. What has changed Sauron's mind. Why have you come here so swiftly now instead of waiting like you have confessed that he would have done? What has changed? Is the Eye in a bit of a jam?"

"No, he most certainly is not," the Mouth of Sauron said, looking a little ruffled for the first time. "But his lordship has methods of attaining knowledge that even I can scarcely imagine. But he has informed me that no more than a few days ago, he sensed something unusual. I have no knowledge of what he meant, but he told me it was something like a ripple in the fabric of the world. Something changed that day, and he is not sure what it is…."

"Then he wants we dragons early as an extra precaution, is that right?" Drogoth smirked. "I suspected as much."

The Mouth of Sauron paused, looking rather surprised. He had not meant to say all of that so quickly, but it had all come out in a rush. But he took it in his stride and grinned in amusement – that sick looking grin once again. Dragons were notoriously difficult to talk to, even for someone like him.

Unbeknownst to him though, Drogoth's eye had roved over in the direction of little Dracomon, who was staring at the conversation with a look of bewilderment on his face, not understanding really what they were talking about at all, before the eye lifted up to focus on Cyberdramon instead – the giant creature even more alert than before and not liking this conversation at all, though he understood little more of it than Dracomon did.

_Interesting_, Drogoth thought to himself. _A mysterious ripple in the world felt by Dark Lord Sauron a few days ago… and these creatures show up, claiming there are more of them and that they arrived in this universe a few days ago? Coincidence? I think not. There must be a link there somewhere._

But he said nothing on the subject and his eye fixed on the Mouth of Sauron again. "I am in two minds already Messenger. The sheer faith that Sauron has that Dragon kind could provide the answer to this mysterious force… well, that is most touching. But at the same time, I do not particularly like the idea that he simply expects us to do something for him. We did not fight for him during his first campaign. Why should we feel any inclination to fight for him this time around either. What is in it for us?"

"The elimination of all those that oppress you for one thing," the Mouth of Sauron pointed out. "The ability to fly in the skies freely for another."

"Freely is it?" Drogoth asked menacingly. "I've seen those Fell Beasts that he's created you know, saddled up and ridden like something know better than a common horse. Is that something you plan on doing to us?"

The Mouth of Sauron made that scoffing, yawning noise again. "The Fell Beasts… they are mere animals. They have very little intelligence and were reared into a life of captivity to allow Sauron's lieutenants to ride upon them into battle. It is not indignity for them to bear us to wherever we wish to go. You Dragons, on the other hand, such a thing would be unthinkable. We would never dare to attempt such a degrading thing as to put a saddle to your backs. Not to mention, you would most likely throw off anyone that attempted to ride you."

"That is correct," Drogoth nodded, with a satisfied look on his face. "I will not be reduced to the standard of a mere pack animal like that horse upon which you ride."

"But you will join the cause?" the Mouth of Sauron asked.

"You still have not totally answered my question," Drogoth smirked. "Freedom of the skies to roam anywhere we choose. We have that already. Do you seriously think that we are solely holed up in here, in the Grey Mountains? Any one of us can fly south at any time we choose and take our pick of the land. In fact, there may already be one or two Dragons left down in the South where nobody knows where to find them.

"It just so happens that we like our solitude, and here in our mountains there is all we could need. There is plenty of mountain goats to feed on, and many peaks for us to climb and launch ourselves from, and there are few who dare to seek us out in this land which is, to them, treacherous. And yet, if I so choose, I could fly down to Mordor this very day and there would be nothing whatsoever, land or sky, that could stop me. Is that not right, my brethren?"

There was nodding and a couple of murmurs and puffs of smoke from the assorted Dragons. And what Drogoth had conveniently not mentioned, was that Dragons were generally extremely lazy creatures.

That was really one of the main reasons why, for the most part, their presence had not been felt in Middle Earth for many years. Unless there was something in it for them, the Dragons rarely saw the need to do anything but relax. Many of them could indeed head south and lay waste to villages and forests alike, but why bother? There was no point. Dragons were not creatures of the light, but they didn't see the need for mindless destruction of anything just for amusement. They were not like Orcs and Goblins, which thirsted for blood and longed for a chance a slaughter. They were higher than that, much more intelligent and erudite.

But the Mouth of Sauron keenly pointed out another main reason why the Dragons stayed here in the Withered Heath. "But you know full well that if you did go South and did as you pleased, it would only be a matter of time before those Dragon Slaughterers, the Dwarves and the Elves, banded together to march on your mountain home. They will slay your young and as many adults as they can, and while they would suffer many more casualties than the mighty Dragon race, the Dragons cannot afford a great many more losses to that race, can it?"

Drogoth said nothing for a moment, and Dracomon looked around at the assembled group, many of whom were actually starting to lose interest in the conversation. He counted at least twenty adult Dragons, only nine of which had wings. And there were about another four or so adolescent Dragons, growing out of their final stages of drakehood.

That was not many Dragons in the grand scheme of things. And while there were probably others out there somewhere in the mountains, Dracomon could easily see that they were indeed on the brink of becoming extinct if this was the bulk of their race.

He felt angry again. How could anyone seriously do this to Dragons and like it?

"You are shrewd, Errand Boy," Drogoth was now saying. "I will give you that. But do you not think that we are well prepared for a Dwarvish assault. We have lived in this mountains for hundreds of years now and we know it well. We know every passage and route into the place and we can fly so high we could see a coming attack from miles away. And the Drakes have studiously been over the valley's mountains many times to find any tunnels which could lead an enemy into ambush attack and they have long been destroyed. If anything were to attempt to attack our home, we would be ready for them."

"But there is still the threat," the Mouth of Sauron insisted. "The threat of retribution. But if you were to join us, then you would be ensured against it all. We would back you up and you back us up against those Dragon slayers. We have a common goal. Ridding the world of all of them."

Drogoth yawned. "You have yet to gain my interest, Mouthy. Go back to your Master and tell him that we are not going to get involved in some great battles unless there is something more solid in it for us. It's disappointing that you did not think to bring anything for us on this visit."

"Who says I did not, Mighty Dragon?" the Mouth of Sauron's head cocked to the side and his horrible mouth bore into a savage grin again. "As a matter of fact, I do have a little something here for you."

"Oh?" Drogoth asked, his interest rising again. "And what would that be?"

The Mouth of Sauron's hand disappeared into his robes and he jerked out a small chain and held it aloft for Drogoth to see. And dangling at one end of the chain was a ring, a small looking item with a great ruby set into it.

"I have brought you this," the Mouth of Sauron sneered. "And another promise from Sauron, if you decide to help us."

Drogoth eyed the little ring dangling before his eyes and snorted a breath of smoke into the Mouth of Sauron's face. "You bring me that?" he asked scornfully. "That is a nice looking trinket, but that is all that it is. A mere trinket. I have many more such things stored within my horde. Why should that thing interest me?"

"Because this is not ordinary Ring, mighty Drogoth," the Mouth of Sauron chuckled. "This is a Ring of Power. One of the Seven Rings of Power that were given to the Dwarves long ago, and which Lord Sauron stole back from them when he destroyed the Dwarven Kingdom to which it belonged."

Suddenly, all of the Dragons looked interested and craned their heads for a better look. Dracomon was nearly stepped on as the adult Dragon he was standing in front of stepped forward a little to see. He didn't have a clue what the Mouth of Sauron meant by a Ring of Power, but evidently all of the others did.

Drogoth himself looked more interested too, peering at the thing with a more appraising eye. "Interesting," he admitted. "I do not believe I have one of those in my collection. It is still worthless to me personally though, no matter how much power it may possess."

The Mouth of Sauron snickered. "I thought you would say that, your Mightyness. But what if I were to tell you that, if you were to join us then you would get far more than this Ring of Power that Sauron no longer needs. You and the rest of your kind will get much more. All the treasure of the world, with the exception of Master Sauron's own Ring of Power, will go to you."

Now all of the Dragons had a slight fire in their eyes, and there was much tail twitching at the thought.

"All of it?" mused Drogoth.

"Near enough," the Mouth of Sauron laughed. "In Sauron's new order, there will be no need for treasure in any way other than hoarding. Orcs, Goblins and Trolls – they all have no need for treasure. Only the Men that side with Sauron will have some spared for them, for we have given them the promise of more bountiful lands and lives, but anything and everything that is not needed to fulfil that will all go to you Dragons.

"Every last one of you will be seated on piles of treasure that would make Smaug the Golden himself weep with envy. All the jewels and gold of Erebor, combined with every other Dwarven Kingdom, Elvish stronghold and Fortress of Men – every last scrap that has been gathered by Orcs and Spiders over the years… what would they need it for?"

Drogoth's eyes were as alight with greed as all the other Dragons at this point. This had been what he was attempting to get out of the conversation all along. He'd always had an interest in joining Sauron in order to reap retribution on the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, but he had casually feigned a lack of interest until the Mouth of Sauron felt the need to use this bargaining chip, which was sure to get the attention of any and every Dragon there was.

Dragons were known throughout Middle Earth as creatures that coveted gold and jewels almost as fiercely as the Dwarves themselves. They could not use it for anything other than hoarding it and staring at it, but to them it was a symbol of their power that could not be expressed even through their amazing strength. And the thought of all the jewels in Middle Earth going to their kind, where they rightfully belonged in their own opinion… it was very difficult to resist such an allure.

And yet Drogoth kept his voice carefully neutral as he went on, though he was pretty sure the Mouth of Sauron could sense the interest that he had suddenly sparked in the Dragons around them. "And what assurance can you give me that this promise of yours will be kept?"

"Lord Sauron would not cheat you or your kind. What use has he for any of that himself? It is not gold that he desires in this war. There is no need to fear that he will back out, Lord Drogoth. The gold can be taken freely by all Dragons and you even have his Lordship's permission to roast any Orc that dares to try and steal a little for itself."

Drogoth nodded, smirking as he knew that the bargain he wanted had almost come to fruition. This was exactly what he had been aiming for all along. But he still was not going to simply commit all the Dragons to Sauron's cause. He was no lapdog to be summoned on a whim, and he would make sure that they remembered that.

Not to mention, all Dragons were selfishly greedy and he wanted to make sure that of all the Dragons there, it was him that got the biggest horde.

"You proposal has intrigued me," he admitted. "But I should very much like to know exactly what it is that Sauron would require of us. I will make you an offer of my own. Before my people commit to your cause, I myself will take on a task of my own. If, and only if, I find the task and the reward to my liking, then I shall consider leading the rest of my folk into battle with you."

The Mouth of Sauron looked a little miffed, jerking his head in that horrible inhumane way of his once again. But then he stiffly nodded and said, "Very well, it shall be so. You may now have this Ring of Power as a sign of our good faith." He held the chain aloft and Drogoth reached down with a single mighty claw, hooking it under the chain and almost taking off the Mouth of Sauron's hand in the process, before he reclined backwards like a giant cat and stared at it.

"Yes, this will do nicely," Drogoth smirked. "Now, what is the nature of the first task that his Lordship wishes for me to accomplish. Channel his words and tell me, Go-between."

"Why naturally, Sauron requires your extreme power to bring down our united enemies. And of course there is one enemy that you loathe more than any others, and that is the Dwarves. So, Lord Sauron would like very much for you to rid the world of a pestilence of these Dwarves."

"You are suggesting, perhaps, that I attack the mountain fortress of Erebor?" Drogoth drawled. "I am not so foolish as to go there unaided. Smaug the Golden perished sixty years ago after a long reign over that mountain and they have long since made further precautions to ensure that Dragons do not get through their defences again."

"You fear them?"

"I respect them," Drogoth replied. "I have every faith that under the right circumstances I could tear those defences asunder. But I will proceed with caution."

"You have little to fear in this case," the Mouth of Sauron shrugged. "Sauron does wish the eradication of the Lonely Mountain, but it is a fortress that has improved greatly. And besides, he has other plans for it than for it to be tackled by a single Dragon as was last time it was taken. No, there will come a time where the Lonely Mountain is put under siege and when that happens, we shall hope you and your Dragons are full members of our forces, for then, as a united front and with the aid of our own troops, you may wipe out the Dwarves and the Men of Dale for good, therefore accomplishing what even Smaug the Golden could not.

"But there are other numbers of Dwarves throughout the world. And, for the most part, Sauron feels that his influence has not been felt enough in the lands to the West, past the Misty Mountains. They are only just beginning to feel his wrath and he once as much of Middle Earth as possible to be under attack. Therefore, he would request your first target to be on the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains on the Western Coast of Middle Earth."

"The Blue Mountains, eh?" Drogoth smirked. "I heard that was where Thorin and the Dwarves that escaped Smaug's attack on Erebor set up their homes after they were chased from the mountain. It would be amusing to teach them that in reality there is nowhere they can run from the fire of a Dragon forever. Not even right across the other end of Middle Earth."

"Then so it shall be," the Mouth of Sauron nodded. "You will launch an attack on the Blue Mountains?"

"Oh yes," Drogoth nodded. "And I feel I shall take a few of the smaller Drakes with me on this occasion. They shall prove most useful in chasing the Dwarves out from their tighter holes. I heard that Smaug allowed thieves to enter his mountain hall through a narrow passage he could not fit through. I shall not make the same mistake and allow Dwarves to lurk in the passes of their homes. I shall destroy the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, and I shall oh so very much enjoy doing so."

"And when you have done so," the Mouth of Sauron leered. "Then you shall consider joining with Sauron."

"If I find the spoils to my liking then indeed I shall."

"You certainly will," the Mouth of Sauron pulled his lips back again and clacked his teeth together. "And once the Dragons join forces with the Dark Lord Sauron, there will be nothing that can stand in our way. We will sweep a burning path right across Middle Earth that eliminates all its free peoples and destroys the light wherever it shines. The Golden Wood, the Elven port city to the west, the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom of Gondor… all shall fall before the hand of Sauron."

"Now I do like the sound of that," Drogoth chuckled. "It has been too long since I tasted the ash from a charred battlefield on my tongue." But even as he spoke, his eyes were roving again, back towards the little green Dragon that had been sitting on his rock, watching and listening to the whole thing.

Dracomon was thunderstruck. He'd been listening to the conversation the whole time, but only now was he starting to piece together the enormity of what was going on and he didn't like it at all. He shook his head, the strange feeling of homeliness now waging war with the unease inside his head, which was now screaming at him, demanding that he listened to what was going on.

The sense of unease had been growing throughout the entire conversation between Dragon and masked Man. All the talk of hoarding treasure had started to kick that feeling off again, because he had seen the light in Drogoth's eyes at the prospect. Why would an honourable Dragon like Drogoth be so interested in stealing gold and killing others to get it?

He'd been trying to convince himself that there was some easy reason for it, but he could come up with no plausible way for a Dragon to find such a thing useful when they didn't need to use it to buy things.

Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Look at Olegmon. That pirate guy loved gold too, but he was a good guy and had really not been that bad a guy even when he had worked for the Bagra Army, even if he had been evil. Now he was a good guy and he still loved gold. That could have been the case with Drogoth as well.

But no, the recent conversational turn, about this Sauron guy that was trying to hire the services of the Dragons being a Dark Lord and leading them on a campaign to burn and kill and pillage from the land of the 'Free Peoples' and 'extinguish the light?' Those were only phrases that people of evil could use.

But Drogoth couldn't be evil, could he? He had opened up his home to them. He had given them a place to stay. He had… he had…

He'd made him doubt Shoutmon.

Dracomon felt his stomach drop further still. Drogoth had convinced them to stay even though they were meant to be looking for their friends, and convinced him that Shoutmon was not going to come looking for them. How the heck had he managed to do that? Dracomon had _never_ doubted Shoutmon, _ever_. And suddenly Drogoth had him doing just that.

What was up with that?

The realisation had already hit Dracomon of course, but there was still some part of his brain that was resisting it. The dragon-spell was powerful and its effects lingering, but when faced with the solid proof as Dracomon now was, it could not remain in place for much longer. And then, suddenly, it dispelled with a metaphorical poof and Dracomon almost fell over.

Drogoth… was evil?

That couldn't be!

And yet he knew it was true. Suddenly things were making much more sense in Dracomon's head. All that talk about the Dragons being feared and oppressed by the other people in this world – it wasn't just hateful persecution at all. The Dragons had been laying waste to the lands of the other people and they had simply retaliated to drive them away and protect themselves, just as the Mouth of Sauron guy had been saying.

Did that mean that every Dragon here… was a bad guy?

No, that was… that was wrong! That just couldn't be possible! All Dragons inherently evil? Even if these Dragons weren't Digimon there was no way that they could just be naturally evil. They were Dragons! Dragons were strong, and noble, and… and… and…

But he was just blustering now and he knew it. He had only just recently been thinking about Dorbickmon and his reign of evil, and how that had twisted even the good Dragons of the Dragon Zone into becoming simple minions of evil. Dragons were just as susceptible to it as any other creature. But did that mean that these Dragons were inherently evil or they had become evil because of the way that they lived and because their ruler was the evil one?

He couldn't tell at all. But he looked around the throng and he could see the greed on all of their faces at the prospect of all the gold and jewels. They were enticed at the prospect, and Dracomon could see that if it came down to it, they would do many things to get their claws on so much treasure. They would burn and ravage and destroy the lives of innocents to add to their hordes. And they were now being recruited by a Dark Lord, who apparently wanted them to do just that – and go out to kill and hurt innocent lives right across the land

A memory flashed into his head. This, he realised, was exactly – _exactly_ – like it had been in the Dragon Zone. It must be. This Sauron, whoever he was, was this world's equivalent of Bagramon. This Mouth of Sauron messenger guy… perhaps he was like Tactimon or one of the other leading Generals of the Bagra Army – whichever one it was that had come to the Dragon Zone in the first place.

And Drogoth… Drogoth was Dorbickmon. Drogoth was the one who spent most of his time in the mountains with his subjects, generally keeping themselves to themselves, but they were about to be recruited by the Dark Lord and begin their campaign in bringing harm to everyone in this world that walked in the light.

Dracomon shivered as he remembered how utterly terrified he'd been during that attack. He'd been much younger then, less than a year old, and he'd been petrified as screams and roars and crackling flames filled the area all around him, while he had hidden, trembling, underneath a slightly upturned DigiNoir tree stump, hiding like a coward and hoping that he wouldn't be noticed.

But he had been, and he'd screamed in abject terror and been reduced to a blubbering heap of scales when a large Devidramon had torn the tree stump out of the ground and leered down at him, its Crimson Claws raised as if to skewer him, but instead grabbing him and taking him to where a bunch of others were now being held prisoner.

He'd been a helpless wreck, able to do nothing but cower as Dorbickmon stood before them all, raising his fist to the air and announcing the dawn of the new age of Dragon Digimon. And then of course, he'd been able to do nothing but run when the killing of innocent Digimon had started.

And now, it was happening again, right in front of him. The Dragons were being goaded to head to war and fight for evil, and it looked like many of them were seriously considering it already.

Dracomon felt his fist clench a little bit, as a small fire built up within his chest, seeming to rise up into his throat and towards the back of his mouth. Before he'd realised what he was doing, he had suddenly spat a wad of fire out of said mouth right into the back of the Mouth of Sauron, who screeched and fell off the horse, landing in the snow and snuffing out the flames before lurching back to his feet and whipping around to stare sightlessly in Dracomon's direction.

But Dracomon was moving, and he suddenly found himself standing in the middle of the Dragon throng, yelling at the top of his voice, "NO! WE CANNOT DO THIS! THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS NOT WHAT DRAGONS ARE MEANT TO DO!"

"Who dares to strike against me?" the Mouth of Sauron snarled.

"Just wait," Drogoth replied to him. "This could be amusing. Let's hear what the little one has to say."

Dracomon felt angrier than he'd ever felt in his life, but he still wasn't totally sure what had possessed him to do this and start shouting at all and sundry. But he did it anyway. In the old days he might have tried to crawl under a rock somewhere until one of the Dragons unearthed him. But he was a proud member of the Xros Heart United Army now, fighter of Blue Flare. It had taken a lot of help from his friends to get him to stand up against Dorbickmon.

But this time… this time… he would be strong right from the start. There was no other alternative.

"Well?" Drogoth asked him. "What say you? Exactly what are Dragons supposed to be for if not this?"

"You tricked me," Dracomon pointed at Drogoth accusingly, surprised at his own bravery. "You made me doubt my own King and made me think you Dragons were victims, but now I see the truth. You're the ones that have been doing the attacking of the innocent, not the other way around."

Drogoth snorted smoke. "I am surprised you did not figure this out earlier, small one. The Dragon spell I used on you to manipulate your mind into believing my words was a powerful one true, but really, what did you expect from my kind? Look at us. We are power incarnate. We are wrathful fire raining down from the heavens. What do you expect we used all this power for?"

"I did not know, but now I do," Dracomon replied. "But what you're doing. It is wrong. Wrong on every level I can think of. Dragons are not supposed to be vicious mass-murderers. We are supposed to be so much more than that."

"And what would you have us be?" Drogoth asked.

"PROTECTORS!" Dracomon yelled so vehemently that several of the Drakes and even a couple of the adult Dragons even took a couple of steps back from him. "If Dragons are so powerful then we should use our powers to protect those who have less power than us, not help those people that would seek to destroy them. We are supposed to be the good guys – the ones that fight for justice and watch from the skies to keep the innocent people on the ground below at bay. Or for those of you who don't have wings, you can still watch from the ground. We're supposed to take those that cannot defend themselves under our wings or into our shadows, not bathe them in fire and turn them to ash!"

Drogoth stared at Dracomon for several moments before he belted forth an extremely powerful laugh. One that almost shook rocks from the cliffs above and caused a miniature avalanche a short distance to his left. Dracomon was almost bowled over as the noise pounded on his ears, and he looked up imploringly at the other Dragons, but saw to his horror that most of them were looking amused too, while the rest of them looked at Dracomon like he had some kind of strange and deadly virus.

Drogoth shook his head after he calmed down a little and snorted, "Oh, are you really so naïve as to believe that?"

"Shoutmon, my friend… he is a Dragon and he is a King of our world. He doesn't rule with flame and claw and fear – he rules with justice and heart, and a firm belief that no matter how bad things get we never turn our backs on those that need us. The Dragons are meant to use their powers for good… not for this."

"That might be the case in your world, puny one," Drogoth smirked. "But it is not the case in ours. Perhaps I did not tell you the story of our creation properly. I may have…omitted a few details it seems."

"What do you mean?" Dracomon frowned. "What about your creation? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Why, we Dragons were created in the first place by the very first Dark Lord of this World, during the First Age," Drogoth laughed, as if this was genuinely funny. "We were a once mighty race, brought into being by the Dark Lord Morgoth and unleashed to create havoc upon the world, and that's exactly what we did for many, many years.

"The Father of All Dragons, Glaurung, emerged from the fortress of Angband to reap destruction upon the free people and he was the greatest terror of his time. And the mightiest Dragon ever, Ancalagon the Black, was so large and mighty that he could shatter mountains with a blow from his tail. We might be superior in every way to every other creation that Morgoth ever produced, but we are still very much creatures of the darkness.

"And I believe that it is high-time that we moved out into the world once again and teach them to fear our kind once more. Most of the lands have grown fat and succulent and believe themselves safe in our absence. Only Smaug has descended out of these mountains during the course of the Third Age. And I believe that that should change. But only," he shot a look towards the Mouth of Sauron, "If the benefit to us is assured."

"It is," the Mouth of Sauron hissed. "But who is this creature that you have in your midst that speaks out in such a fashion against you?"

"Oh, that is right," Drogoth chuckled as if he was only just remembering. "Perhaps I should have mentioned it earlier. You said that your Lord Sauron sensed some kind of ripple in the world, yes? Some major change that happened a few days ago. Well, I believe I know what may have caused that. It appears that our world has gotten some visitors from another one, in the form of strange looking creatures that call themselves Digimon. And from what I hear, they are all in the side of Light. You can take that message back to your Master, if you like."

"Digimon?" the Mouth of Sauron spat, his helm focusing on Dracomon and making him shiver. "Creatures from another world? How is that possible?"

"I would not know," Drogoth replied. "But the two that arrived here yesterday are convinced that this isn't their world. I fooled them into staying with us instead of going to try and find their companions – I figured it could be some useful information to you when you got here. After all, I was expecting you to arrive sooner or later."

"Interesting," the Mouth of Sauron mused. "My Master will be very interested to hear of this indeed. If I may, perhaps I can take this creature with me to show him. He will appreciate being given this news."

"By all means," Drogoth smirked. "They're no use to me. Take the small defiant one. His mouth is too big for my liking. Somebody seize the little guy."

"Wait, stop!" Dracomon cried as some of the Dragons swung their heads in his direction. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to join up with the darkness and let yourself be marred in it. You have a choice. You have the right to choose your own way of life!"

Even as he was speaking Dracomon's eye was caught by the copper dragon he had first met in this world – Chrysophylax – who was looking not at him, but at Drogoth. Drogoth didn't notice his stare as he was too intent on Dracomon to look at him, but Dracomon definitely saw Chrysophylax looking towards Drogoth with an expression that could only be described as annoyance.

Irritation.

Chrysophylax was looking irritated with Drogoth. Dracomon could almost see an indignant look in his eyes too. Dracomon didn't really know why that would be, but it was enough for him to know that not all of the Dragons were one-hundred percent behind the Dragon Lord in his motives to head out there and fight.

But before he could do or say any more, a nearby red wingless Dragon's head lashed outwards towards Dracomon, his jaws opening and his large teeth seeking to seize Dracomon and toss him to the side. It didn't matter, after all, if Dracomon was seriously hurt as long as he remained alive.

Dracomon yelped and fell backwards but before the red Dragon could hit, a vicious roar ripped through the air and something large and blue barrelled straight between two nearby Dragons and a massive, spaded tail clouted the red one upside the head and sent him reeling backwards. Dracomon saw two huge feet standing on either side of him and the form of his fellow Digimon loomed overhead, glaring expressionlessly at all the Dragons around them.

"Cyberdramon!" Dracomon cried.

The Dragons around them roared in rage at the prospect of one of their own kind being attacked in such a manner by one of these strangers. Many of them were larger than Cyberdramon and the Digimon was outnumbered. Not to mention, the two Dragons that had been flanking him on Drogoth's instruction had suddenly leapt into the air and were descending down towards them with claws and fangs very much in evidence.

Cyberdramon plunged his spear into the ground alarmingly close to Dracomon and span his jagged body around its pole with a yell of, **"DEATH DIVIDER!"** The attack was an unexpected one and the first Dragon to descend on him and slammed to the side by the viciously spinning body and crashed into a large number of the others, while the other one caught itself and veered out of the way, flaring its wings and landing not far away, its head whipping around to spit a _massive_ burst of fire directly towards the two Digimon.

Cyberdramon was not stupid and senseless enough to know when he was outmatched, so he sprang out of the attack and seized Dracomon in one clawed hand, leaping into the air with a surge of his legs and sweeping out of the way of the fiery plume right at the last second, shooting away towards the mountains.

"GET HIM!" Drogoth snarled. "DO NOT LET THAT ABOMINATION ON OUR KIND ESCAPE!"

The Wingless Dragons spat fire after Cyberdramon but he was a fast flier and was out of their range very quickly, leaving them powerless to do anything more. But five of the winged Dragons, including the two that had just attacked him before, spread their wings wide and threw themselves into the air, propelling themselves upwards with massive flaps of their wings, that almost literally scooped them through the air in pursuit.

Cyberdramon snarled as a Green Dragon came in from below and quickly zipped to the side right as the creature's jaws snapped shut where his foot had been, but there was a Blue Dragon already coming in hot to cut him off. Cyberdramon span around and activated his Glutton Fang, his long ribs extending outwards and ready to pierce the Dragon if it got too close, but the Blue Dragon powered straight into Cyberdramon with his shoulder so hard that Cyberdramon was flung upwards at the impact.

And one of his ribs broke off.

Cyberdramon was shocked. He felt no pain from it, as the ribs were merely part of his armour, but still, the mere fact that it had broken off was mortifying. Cyberdramon's armour was incredibly tough, but the scales of the Dragon were evidently even tougher to be able to do something like that with no effort at all. And the Blue Dragon launched another wall of fire up at him, forcing him to pitch to the side to avoid the plume and it still smeared his tail with ash.

And a Bronze Dragon suddenly descending on him from above and seized him by the tail in his massive jaws, swinging him around by it and threatening to send him crashing downwards, even as the Silver and Grey Dragons the remained began to close in from either side to see if they could do any damage themselves.

Cyberdramon snarled and jammed his lance into a gap in the mouth of the Bronze Dragon, eliciting a roar and a splash of blood from the roof of its mouth as it released his tail and he tumbled downwards, allowing himself to fall out of the way of the other two in the hopes they'd crash into each other. But they didn't. They upended themselves and dived down after him, side by side, and more fiery barrages launched themselves down at him from their outstretched maws.

Cyberdramon momentarily thought about trying to block, but he knew it was futile. The mere fact that he was holding Dracomon in one hand was limiting his options. He could only manipulate his lance with one hand now, which was a little more awkward, and it meant he couldn't use his Eraser Claw either.

Besides, fighting these Dragons was not the priority right now. He needed to escape. He needed to get away so that he could find the others and get Dracomon out of harm's way. If there was a war erupting in this world then they needed to know about it if they hadn't found out already.

So he merely fell even further down towards the ground, the snow-covered landscape rushing in to meet him as the massive fire-storm above him gained ground on him. Moments before he crashed into the ground he plunged his lance downwards and into it, landing on the durable weapon and using it like a springboard to launch himself sideways and out of the way of the fire, dragging the weapon along behind him moments before they were consumed.

But the five Dragons were still after him, and the Silver and Grey ones levelled in to face him even as he shot towards the mountains. The Grey one, which appeared to be of a lighter build than the other, powered in towards him and swept past him, angling its tail in to try and smash Cyberdramon into the ground. Cyberdramon rolled over and slammed the tail aside with his lance but almost crashed into the ground as a result anyway.

When he levelled himself, he saw that the Green Dragon had actually managed to get ahead of him and was shooting towards him straight as an arrow, an explosion of fire rippling out of his mouth to course over the ground and melt the snow in its wake as it did. Cyberdramon hurriedly slammed his lance into the ground again and pushed himself into a forward somersault with it right over the flame and the slammed the flat of the blade into the side of the Green Dragons' head to send it reeling to the side, right as the Silver Dragon descended on him from above and latched its claws into his back.

Cyberdramon howled and crashed towards the ground as the Silver Dragon's claws tore at his armour and ripped chunks out of the now sparking metal. Cyberdramon hammered stomach-first into the snow and ground through it with the Silver Dragon on top of him, but Dracomon, still clutched in Cyberdramon's hand, was now inches from the Silver Dragon's head.

"**BABY FLAME!"** Dracomon cried and spat a fireball right into the Silver Dragon's eye. The Silver Dragon yelled and reared backwards, not especially hurt by the little attack but his eye now stinging slightly. But he relaxed his grip enough for Cyberdramon to push himself up from the ground before he'd even stopped moving and roll over so forcefully that the Silver Dragon ended up crashing into the ground as well.

Cyberdramon skidded to a halt on the ground, and saw that they were a short distance from the mountains now, but the Blue and Bronze Dragons were coming in for another pass, the Bronze one looking particularly angry with blood on its teeth. Cyberdramon snarled as they swept in from either side, seeking to box him in.

"Hold tight," he suddenly growled to Dracomon, placing the small Dragon on his shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Dracomon blinked, but grabbed on instinctively anyway. "What are you going to…"

"**CYBER BLADER!"**

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAO!" was the next thing out of Dracomon's mouth as Cyberdramon threw himself into the air by using his tail like a piston underneath him, suddenly straightening it to catapult them forwards. But then, he gripped his lance in two hands and planted his feet on the spades of his wide tail, before he landed on it, the tail point touching the ground, and Cyberdramon throwing himself into a whirl that sent them shooting across the ground like a spinning top, towards the mountains, with Dracomon clinging on for dear life as they went whipping round and round.

Alarmed, the two Dragons peeled away before they could crash into him, and through this straight spin across the ground, Cyberdramon was able to reach the mountains. Not dizzy at all, he flung himself back into the air and took of straight through them, sticking as close as he could to the rocks and actually more running than flying, leaping from surface to surface and propelling himself with tail, feet and lance as he hit cliff walls and landed on boulders and ledges before springing off again almost immediately.

The five aerial Dragons spat fire down at him with great flaming waves but Cyberdramon was able to dodge them with relative ease now, able to throw himself out of the way almost before the attack had been launched and proceeding along with speed. He tried to stay in as close as his large form would allow to the ground, knowing that the great wings of their pursuers would prevent them from swooping into the tighter spaces to try and grab them.

"I think… I think we're pulling away…!" Dracomon cried with some slight elation, watching as the Dragons wheeled overhead while Cyberdramon ploughed on over the rocks. "They're falling back."

But of course, that's when something went wrong. Because they forgotten that the Dragons they had just escaped from at the Withered Heath were not _all_ the Dragons that were currently living in these mountains.

Cyberdramon let out a cry of surprise when he sprang off another rock wall, only to see a wingless cobalt-blue Dragon emerge from a hidden cave entrance right in front of him, to see what all the noise was about. The wingless Dragon only had a moment to see Cyberdramon hurtling at him, unable to slow down fast enough before the two of them collided with each other and went rolling over and over to slam hard into a cliff wall.

Dracomon yelled as he was thrown off Cyberdramon by the impact and flung into a snow-drift, leaving him slightly bruised but still relatively unharmed. But then he stood up quickly and saw Cyberdramon and the wingless Dragon grappling with one another furiously, Cyberdramon slamming his spear into the wingless Dragon as the Dragon breathed fire into his face.

"CYBERDRAMON! LOOK OUT!" Dracomon cried, watching as the struggling to the two Dragons had brought them right up to the edge of a massive ravine, and they were tipping on the edge of it, ready to plummet at any moment.

Cyberdramon had already spoken two words where he normally would have said nothing today, but now he yelled a third one to Dracomon – "ESCAPE!" – before the two Dragons thrashed their way right off the edge. Dracomon watched in horror as Cyberdramon plummeted out of sight, the wingless Dragon's claws still hooked into his armour and dragging him down and away.

Dracomon only had a moment's hesitation before he realised that there was nothing he could do for Cyberdramon right now. He was not powerful enough to stand against these mighty opponents and he could already see the Winged Dragons coming in, recognising an opening. And so, Dracomon quickly turned and sprinted away, dodging between rocks and ploughing his way through snow as the winged Dragons descended down into the ravine after the wingless one and Cyberdramon.

Dracomon felt helpless again, just like he'd been when Dorbickmon had been taking over everything. There was nothing he could do. He was just one little Dragon on the run once again, up against foes he could never hope to beat.

What should he do?

What should he do now?

* * *

Drogoth sneered a little as the Bronze and Green Dragons dropped Cyberdramon's feebly stirring form on the ground and pinned him beneath their weight, with the other winged Dragons alighting nearby. Cyberdramon was still alive, but his armour was rent in several places and one of his wings looked a real mess and was flayed even more than usual.

The Blue Dragon dropped Cyberdramon's lance on the ground nearby and said, "That might be good for somebody's horde at least."

"Where is the small one?" Drogoth asked.

"We did not find him yet," the Silver Dragon replied. "He slipped away during the course of the battle, but he won't get far. We'll track him down. But we brought the more troublesome one back for you."

"No matter," Drogoth mused. "At least we have the silent one. You weren't fooled by my Dragon spell at all, were you?"

Cyberdramon snarled and tried to push himself upwards, but the Bronze Dragon put his foot on the back of his head and forced it into the ground.

"I'd like to kill him," snarled said Dragon. "He cut the inside of my mouth with that lance of his. That cannot be allowed to pass."

Drogoth slammed his armoured tail into the ground. "You will do nothing of the sort. I'd like for this one to stay alive for now. Its only a matter of time before we find his little comrade and I want that pathetic excuse for a hatchling to watch as his friend is killed. Take him to a cave somewhere and two of you guard the entrance. He won't be going anywhere in that condition. And the rest of you get to finding that little one. I will be leaving here tomorrow for the Blue Mountains and if he has not been found by then I want him found by the time I return. I want to be there when we kill them and I want to get the small one to tell me more about his Digimon friends. Now, get to it."

As the Dragons moved to obey his commands and Drogoth returned to finishing negotiations and terms of agreement with the Mouth of Sauron, the Dragon Lord remained unaware of the resentful glare that Chrysophylax was sending his way.

_Who does he think he is?_ Chrysophylax snorted to himself. _Dragon Lord indeed. Giving himself a fanciful title just because he's the most powerful of us here and then ordering us around like he owns us. I liked the idea of some figure to guide us at times but now he's acting like he's our leader, deciding when we all go to war. This is not what I agreed to. We are Dragons. We have no leader, not since Morgoth was cast down. He can strut about like he owns us all he likes, but he has no hold over me._

* * *

Well, that wasn't quite what I was originally planning on doing, but this works out better, I think. I hope that you enjoyed reading the chapter, but uh-oh, it looks like Dracomon and Cyberdramon are in deeper than they thought they were going to get. Cyberdramon is a very tough Digimon, one of the strongest of the group, but even he is no match for six Dragons at once in a direct fight. Poor guy. And now Dracomon is also on his own. What will become of the two of them? You will have to wait a while to find out, I'm afraid.

* * *

Next time…

After being knocked unconscious by her companion, Bastemon finally wakes up, only to discover the situation is not to her liking _at all_. The pampered princess has been thrown into a world she has no experience in – that of a captive.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 35 : Prisoner of the Haradrim**


	35. Prisoner of the Haradrim

Hello everybody. I am back once again to continue writing and I think that this is going to be the most hard-core amount of writing that I have done so far this year, or will get a chance to do this year. From this point on until the twenty-fourth, I intend to try and get out one chapter per day with the use of this new Dragon NaturallySpeaking twelve program that I have. It is not easy and I am pretty sure that this chapter will probably contain quite a few more mistakes than usual until I get used to using the program but it is still a lot faster than writing with my fingers and I should be able to do it with little effort. I would have posted this one up yesterday but for some reason my Internet connection when down. So sorry about that, but here I am and get ready for a large round of Fergus Flamacron works.

That being said, enjoy reading this chapter.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 35:- Prisoner of the Haradrim**

* * *

Bastemon regained consciousness with excruciating slowness. As in, it took five minutes after her brain began functioning again for her to realise that she was actually regaining consciousness. That is how slow it was.

Dazed and confused, she attempted to lift her head only for it to flop down again a moment later. Although her eyes opened a crack she could not see anything through them but blurriness and indistinct shapes with occasional movement. She could not possibly discern what the movement belonged to though. It was almost as if she was seeing everything underwater. And that thought alone made her panic momentarily, remembering her instance in the river and her plummet down the waterfall.

But all she could muster, even from that panic was nothing but a feeble grunt and an attempt to roll over that ended in failure.

It felt like every vein and artery in her was filled with lead instead of blood. She felt incredibly heavy all over her body. As if lifting even one of her two tails was next to impossible. Both twitched feebly but other than that they did absolutely nothing.

It took another fifteen minutes of this before she even managed to regain any more clarity on her world. Everything seemed to be returning to her very slowly but for some reason she could not remember anything about how she had got here. Almost everything after dragging herself all across the bank of the River seemed to be as if it was in shadows lingering on the edges of her thoughts. There somewhere in her subconscious, but not coming to the forefront.

But slowly the aches and pains of everything else seemed to return to her body. The scrapes and cuts that had occurred during her episode in the River panged at her slightly although they did not feel as bad as before. Her throat and tongue felt scratchy as if she had not had a drink in ages and her head ached abominably. She almost automatically reached out to demand someone gets her some sort of medicine for it but then remembered that there was nobody about besides her.

Or was there?

Something was straining on the edge of her mind – one of those memories that she could not quite remember yet. She remembered… She remembered… Trying to drag herself down towards the River before passing out. Was that where she was now? No, there was no sound of the River nearby which means that she must have moved somehow.

And she could remember something else… Was it… Another person?

Yes… Yes there was another person in her memory. The person that had saved her from what would presumably have been her death at the bank of the River through dehydration and exhaustion. Saleme. Yes, it was that lovely human Saleme who had taken her away from the bank and tended to her injuries. Where was Saleme? Was she nearby?

As she nodded off somehow – had they not being going to try and find her friends again? That was what she remembered… She had convinced Saleme to come and help her to search for Greymon and Revolmon once more and then…

And then… Bastemon felt herself frown as the very last thing in her memory struggled to regain the surface of her mind.

Something about darts.

Finally her eyes snapped open and she gasped, before falling into an instant fit of coughing at the dry sensation in her throat. A dart! She had been hit with a dart! Saleme had pulled out of blowpipe behind her when she was not looking and had used it to put a dart in her. A dart that had made her succumbed to unconsciousness with frightening ease – did she not say that there was a poison that some kind of it?

She blinked her eyes rapidly as she tried to push herself up and failed for her limbs were not respond and she still felt leaden. A snort of effort came from her nose – most undignified sound if there ever was one. But right now she was not feeling particularly noble and like a princess. She had been shot in the back – betrayed.

But as everything slowly began to swim back into focus and she actually took stock of the situation, she realised that it was much more serious than this. Besides assassination there was one nightmare which just about every Princess that listened to the stories and fairy tales as children learnt to greatly fear.

The one where they were kidnapped.

And unless Bastemon was very much mistaken – and she could see that she was not – that was the fate which had befallen her.

When she saw everything again properly she could see that she was being borne along on a litter of some kind. Like a stretcher made out of grasses and reeds that was being carried on the shoulders of what were undoubtedly for adult human males. None of them were looking at her and all were garbed in what appeared to be dark red or brown robes that obscured their faces and covered most of the bodies. They walked along with the purpose, marching in step with one another.

And Bastemon could clearly see that they were not alone. Far from it in fact. Surrounding her in all directions were what could only be hundreds and hundreds of them. Most of the men but quite a few women as well – all marching together through the trees and staring straight ahead. Many of them held lances and spears and their grips while many others held bows and were adorned with quivers of arrows to go with them on their backs. This was definitely not some rural band of kidnappers. This was an army – an army all marching with a single purpose. What about purpose could be Bastemon did not know, but she knew that when armies went on the march it was rarely for a pleasant reason.

Unless it was a drill.

But it seemed pretty obvious to even her lack of military knowledge that this was no drill.

There was also a deep, rumbling noise coming from nearby. And before Bastemon could get into a full panic mode which she could quite clearly sense coming along, she turned her head and grasped – her eyes shooting wide. Trembling through the trees some distance behind her and towering above everything else in the seventy was a single huge creature that at first she was sure must have been a Digimon of some kind. But she could sense now that her head was getting back into the game that it was in fact not a Digimon at all.

But it was easily big enough to rival some of the larger ones that she had come across during her time. In fact, it was even larger than many of the ones that she encountered. And though she could hardly be considered an expert, she knew that this creature was a pachyderm of some description. It looked a little like a Mammothmon in design. But any Mammothmon would be envious beyond belief if they got a load of one of these. It was easily twice the size of the largest Mammothmon she had ever come. Actually, it was probably even bigger.

It also lacked the woolly hair and the armoured face with the single yellow eye. But it did have massive sweeping tusks jutting out from underneath its trunk – although where a Mammothmon had two of those this creature had four - two smaller ones sticking out underneath the two larger ones. It also had what appeared to be a large number of spikes jutting out of various points on those tasks but Bastemon could see that those had been artificially added. As had similar spikes tied around each of its massive feet, the red paint that covered a lot of its features, and the giant multi-storied platform that was attached to its back.

Bastemon was astounded beyond belief – wondering if this was the kind of thing that a Mammothmon might digivolve into. But to find such a massive creature that was not even a Digimon blew her away… Even Deckerdramon was not as large as this. Maybe Shoutmon X7 could have stood as tall… But even he would not be able to match the body mass. At least she assumed so. She'd never actually got to weigh Shoutmon X7 before all.

The creatures huge feet, which was so large that even calling them like tree trunks didn't really seem to suffice, ploughed slowly through the undergrowth – stamping and crushing bushes in its path and swinging its massive trunk from side to side. All of the men were giving it a wide berth. But Bastemon could see that there was a man steering it from a platform above its head by pulling onto strings that were attached to the creatures small ears. And there were other men all armed with bows dotted amongst the platform on its back.

There was no doubt about it… This creature was meant for war. As if the massive army that it was walking with was not clue enough.

And although she could not see it is, Bastemon was pretty sure that there was actually another one somewhere behind it.

And it was about now that she felt the panic really starting to kick in.

With no specific plan in mind Bastemon tried to roll off the side of litter she was being borne on. All she could think about was trying desperately to escape. It didn't matter how and it didn't matter where to but she just wanted to get away as fast as possible. This was the very last thing she wanted to be involved in and every iota of her being was screaming at her to flee.

But before she had managed to roll more than three inches she was pulled up short. It was only then that she noticed the final part of her predicament and perhaps the worst part. She had paid no thought to the fact that her hands were behind her back until this point but now she realised that they were being physically held there by thick metal manacles that firmly encased and held her wrists together. The same could be said for her ankles, pinned together by an almost miniscule chain between the two metal cuffs that were locked around them.

And to cap it off there was a short chain connecting her ankle restraints to her restraints effectively pulling her legs back and making are unable to stand and there were short chains attached to both which led to all four corners of the litter she was being carried on. She was quite firmly attached to it and chained up like a prime roast. Even her long, dangerous looking claws had been bound in what looked like bandages of some description – holding them together and preventing them from using them to the potentially deadly effect on both hands and feet. But in all honesty, that was almost unnecessary as with her bonds in the way they were she was in no position to do any clawing of any kind.

How could this possibly not be her worst nightmare brought to reality. She had feared that this was what she would endure when IceDevimon invaded her Castle moments before she'd been protected by Shoutmon but this time it was actually happening to her. She was a helpless captive. A damsel in distress. Just like one of those helpless princesses in the stories that she had always been told by her father when growing up.

Right before she broke down into tears a single thought flashed through her head:- _Normally I like metal adornments but definitely not these ones_.

And that was when the very final part of what had happened to her suddenly became noticeable to her. The steel manacles that clamped over her wrists and ankles were the _only_ metal adornments that she could feel. She twisted around violently, trying to get a look down at herself and to her absolute horror she found that she was utterly devoid of all of her jewellery. Every single piece of it had gone. Every ring on her claws, her necklace, her earrings, every bangle around her wrists and ankles and even the golden band around her upper arms and the golden circlet that normally rested on her head – all of it had been taken.

When she had lost her tail rings in the River she had felt strangely naked.

Now, with absolutely all of her jewellery gone, she felt like she had been utterly exposed to the world. Even though her actual closing was still intact and still preserving a modesty.

She was at an utter loss. She genuinely could not remember a time where she had been without her jewellery. She went everywhere with it on – she slept with it, she ate with it and she never added anything to it or took any of it away. All related just been a part of her person and now it had been taken away. She could probably guess right off the bat that she would never see them again. Her captors had stripped them from and will probably hoarding them somewhere like thieves they were.

Perhaps it was the shock of finding all of her jewellery gone that momentarily prevented Bastemon from going into a full-blown panic attack or outright weeping but before she could consider doing any of that as well, she heard a voice stepping up close to her say, "Ah, so the sleeping princess finally awakens, does she?"

Bastemon rolled her head over, eyes wide in staring in disbelief and fear. There now walking in step next to her and the litter she was being carried on was Saleme herself – but tall, elegant, practically garbed woman giving her what looked like a genuine smile at first glance but also had an underlayer of smugness to it.

Bastemon cringed. She had been hoping against hope that some part of her was mistaken and Saleme had not been involved in her capture at all and that it had been a totally independent party, for Saleme had seemed like a perfectly friendly and good person right up until the last point. Heck, she had taken out the arrow and bandaged her shoulder. And yet now Bastemon could see that she had been fooled. She'd held no suspicion for the stranger that had been helping her. She automatically trusted her and look where that got her.

Some of the harsh words that Greymon had hit her with a few days ago came back to her now. Was this a result of her naïveté? She didn't rightly know, but now she knew that just about every word the Greymon had lashed out at her had been right on the money. She was hopeless. A week, little Digimon that needed to be looked after and as soon as someone had started looking after her again, in this case Saleme, she had let her guard drop. And she had only just been attacked by some unknown force and knocked into a River the previous day.

Was she honest to goodness that hopeless?

"Have you nothing to say?" Saleme asked, looking bemused. "No outrageous demands about what the meaning of this is? No hurtful comments about how you have been betrayed? I kind of expected more from royalty then just while staring… But then again you are an animal, cat girl. So I suppose it might be natural to display such instincts when you are quite obviously cornered."

Bastemon opened her mouth to say something and was once again reminded of how dry it was. It felt like the inside of her throat had the texture of a lizard's skin. She coughed and hacked a little bit, jerking involuntarily at the chain around her wrists and wincing as they gouged slightly against them.

But eventually Bastemon managed to choke out a single word. "Why?"

"Why?" Saleme repeated, raising a brow.

"Yes, why?" Bastemon rasped. "Why… Why have you done this to me? What did I ever do to you to deserve this? I was just lost in the Forest, frightened and alone. Why have you done this to me?"

"Now those were more the sorts of questions that I was expecting," Saleme nodded at her. "But to be honest, cat Princess, you should be counting your lucky stars. After all, I could just as easily have decided to kill Yuu instead of take you as a captive. After all, that is what I do."

"What you… do?" Bastemon's throat felt just as thick as ever.

"Oh yes," Saleme gave her a small and yet slightly sinister smile. "I did not lie to you about my name being Saleme. But I am a professional assassin for the Haradrim of the South. Perhaps the most elite out of the Haradrim's entire force. There has not been the target yet that I have not managed to successfully dispatch when I have been given the order. And when I saw you and learn that you were royalty I could have easily killed you right there. But, well, you were just so different. Interesting. Unique. And we can hardly find out more about you if I were to just kill you want spot, can we?"

"Haradrim?" Bastemon blinked, unfamiliar with the term.

"You do not know of us?" Saleme asked. "I suppose that is hardly surprising considering we have never heard of your species. Though I think it is safe to say that my people outnumber yours. We are the people that live in Near and Far Harad – the lands to the South of Mordor and Gondor. We roam freely across the lands and we answer to few. But I suppose you could say, it's time for a regime change. That is why we are on the march. Have you not heard about the brewing war? You must be very lost indeed if you have not."

Bastemon looked alarmed and thrashed on her chains to no effect whatsoever. The stronger Digimon of her size might have been able to break loose. Heck even stronger smaller Digimon like Shoutmon would probably have been able to bust out of his situation like this long ago. And now Bastemon was certainly regretting her lack of physical strength.

"I see that you haven't," Saleme shrugged. "Well no matter. You will find out everything that you need to know about it in time. But suffice to say that you are now a prisoner of the Haradrim and it's very unlikely indeed that you will be released ever again. So you might as well get used to it."

And after hearing those words sink in, that was the point that Bastemon finally started to cry. "No!" She whimpered, as she pulled frantically on the chains encapsulating her limbs. "You can't do this! This isn't fair! I was just an innocent traveller lost in a strange land – I don't know anything about this place. Let me go! Please! Let me go!"

"You are definitely not the kind of Princess that I was expecting. You're acting more like a grovelling maid servant than our proud regal member of the Royal family of wherever you come from. I thought that royalty was supposed to hold its head high and arrogantly no matter what."

"I… I'm not very strong…" Bastemon whimpered. "I only know that. But this is not fair. This is not right. I've never done anything to the Haradrim or to any other human in fact… I did not ask to be yanked away from my home and deposited in your land… Just tell me the way to get off your land and I'll leave straight away, I promise."

Saleme chuckled as did and large number of the men around her. "Oh, we are not on our own land. Do you not even know where in Middle Earth you are? This is Ithilien. These are the forests of Gondor – North of the Near and Far Harad from whence we hail. We are already on enemy territory. Therefore anybody that we encounter who was not among our own forces or Sauron's forces is our enemy. And that includes you. So, tell me. Is there any information that you may possess which would be useful to us? Who knows? We may even end up being lenient… If you tell us what you know."

"But I don't know anything!" Bastemon protested. "I haven't been here for very long. I only woke up a few days ago in this land with no idea how I got here at all. I lost all my friends except for two and now I have even lost them as well. I have never heard of any of these places that you talk about. I don't know where I am. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know anything at all. I swear it. Please let me go."

Saleme grimaced. "That's not what I wanted to hear little princess. That's not what any of us wanted to hear. We were rather hoping that there was something more that you could tell us something that would be useful to our cause in overthrowing Gondor at long last. We have been forced to swept in one day like nomads in the blazing heat and deserts of the lands of the Haradrim. Pushed down South into a harsher climate by those who live in this land of plenty. And if you cannot tell is anything helpful…"

"… You were released me?" Bastemon asked hopefully.

"Perhaps in a manner," Saleme said and Bastemon did not like the harsh looking her high now. "We can certainly sure that you leave our captivity… By allowing your spirit to leave your body after you perish."

Bastemon's eyes widened in abject terror as Saleme produced a knife from her belt and twirled it in her fingers with expert precision. The Haradrim assassin then flicked it up to level it with Bastemon's nose. Bastemon attempted to recoil but the chains severely hindered her progress.

Saleme hide Bastemon critically for several seconds before lowering her knife. "On the other hand…" She said. "You did mention that you did have other friends here about. Why don't you tell is what you know about them? After all with a strange creature like you running around it is probably safe to say that your companions are equally strange. Your bodyguards perhaps? Strapping male cat creatures that live to defend you or something?"

Bastemon fought the urge to let loose a whimper at the thought of her bodyguard and desperately wished that Knightmon was here watching her back as he always loyally did. Or anyone else from Xros heart really. She had been an utter fool to take everything so likely. Greymon had been right. Being lost in a strange land was definitely no walk in the park no matter how strong your protectors were. And now she was paying the price.

And she realised that she had been staring at the knife in Saleme's hands and was already opening her mouth to tell her what she wanted to know about her companions – like a total coward. She hesitated for a moment. She was not brave. She definitely knew that. And she was not really a fighter – that had already been established. She preferred to stand back and let most of the others do all fighting for her. The only reason she'd even joined Xros Heart in the first place was to make sure that she stayed close to Taiki.

But now she suddenly had a moment of thinking with extreme clarity. She glanced around her again at the heavily armed arming of the giant creatures that stomped along behind them. She could not possibly tell them about her friends could she? She could guess immediately what these people would do with that information – they would hunt her friends and down with everything they had and probably do them severe harm. Greymon could probably take out many of the humans – he was far stronger than they were after all. But could he take out all of them?" And could he take out those giant elephant-like creatures?

Bastemon's urge to tell Saleme in an effort to preserve her own life was almost overwhelming. The need to survive was ingrained in hand just as it was with any other Digimon. But something made her mouth snap shut and her eyes harden slightly. She might not have done much for the party in the past but even trussed up and at the mercy of these strange Haradrim Warriors she was, she could at least do something to keep them safe.

"No!" She suddenly declared vehemently, making Saleme blink in surprise at her sudden change in attitude. "No, I will tell you nothing about them! Nothing at all!" And she closed her mouth decisively as a clear signal that this was all she was going to say.

Saleme stared at her several moments wondering where the terrified Princess before her had gone. And she could see that said terrified Princess was still there – Bastemon was trembling with such force that her chains will rattling like some kind of miniature orchestra on some strange instrument.

She narrowed her eyes. "Well then… I suppose that there really is no further use for you. Pity really. For I did go to the effort of catching you and ensuring that you would not be able to use your claws on us after all."

She raised her knife over Bastemon's head and the cat Princess trembled, not sure whether she should look defiant or close her eyes to wait for the bloke to strike. But Saleme hesitated before she could plunge the knife down then flipped said knife into the air caught it deftly by the handle and stowed it back at her waist.

"Although…" She mused. "One can never be too sure when dealing with such a strange captive as you. If you won't tell us about your companions then we cannot know what we're up against. And there's every possibility you may have some use which has not yet come to light. Yes, we shall keep you alive for now. Until such a time as we can figure out what to do with you."

"I… I will never help you in any way…" Bastemon said, though it sounded rather feeble in her own ears.

"Maybe," Saleme shrugged. "But I did not necessarily mean that you would do it voluntarily. There's always a chance we can hold you hostage any of your friends show up. I'm sure they would not want their precious little princess to get hurt."

Bastemon breathed a temporary sigh of relief but her sensitive Ears did catch Saleme saying one final thing under her breath – something which she assumed she had not actually meant for Bastemon to hear:-

"And besides… I don't like the idea of killing helpless prisoners."

Bastemon's eyes opened in slight surprise. Saleme was an assassin and she had always viewed assassins has being entirely coldhearted and ruthless people who would do anything with no morals at all. And she could quite plainly see that Saleme was indeed a very ruthless person – an efficient at getting the job done and with little to no qualms in the field. But it seemed that she was also a warrior and did have some vague sense of honour, however small, in her somewhere. And Warriors were not prone to killing helpless victims. At least not the proper ones.

Maybe there was some hope for her after all. Some hope that she might be able to survive this.

"Thank yo-MMPGH!" Bastemon suddenly yelped as Saleme whipped around and forced what appeared to be a large pine cone right into Bastemon's open mouth. Bastemon hacked and attempted to spit it out as her teeth clamped down on it and small pieces splintered off and flew into her mouth but before she could Saleme had taken around from her belt and firmly tied it around Bastemon's lower face to keep the pine cone in.

"I may not be killing you yet, Princess," Saleme said as she tied the knot off, securely gagging Bastemon with the pinecone. "But that does not mean that I wish to hear you speak. Or make any noise whatsoever for that matter. Until you're willing to tell me anything that I want to hear then you have nothing to say that would interest me. Especially whinging attempts to get me to let you go. Prisoners should only speak when asked of them."

Bastemon thrashed around on top of the litter, jerking at the chains which held her firmly in place and refused to give any further than their slack allowed. She could not believe it! She had been gagged! How much more humiliating and horrible was this experience going to get? And gagged with a pinecone of all things!

She gave Saleme a pleading look to which the Haradrim assassin waggled one finger. "Ah, ah, ah – don't give me the kitten eye, little princess. That is not going to work on me. I suggest that you sit tight and think hard about how you want to spend the rest of your life. Because you are not getting free of us. You can either make the most of your newfound position in life or you can be placed underneath a foot of one of the Mûmakil." She gestured with a thumb over her shoulder at one of the giant, rumbling creatures which was flattening trees underneath its legs now.

Bastemon whined and tried desperately to spit out little bits of pinecone. But it was no use. The cloth held and she could feel fresh tears beginning to well up in her eyes. With nothing better to do – chained up and carried away from her friends into an unknown future, she had nothing better to do but let them fall.

* * *

Greymon was beginning to get frustrated beyond belief. How hard was this? Why did have to turn out like this? Just when things were finally starting to look up to…

Greymon had been forced to stop for the night – (it had been and gone since Bastemon had been taken by Saleme, although Greymon did not know this fact) – for fatigue had finally begun to get the better of him and he needed some sleep and serious healing. He wished that Cutemon had been in the vicinity when they had landed here. The little pink bunny might not have been very strong but he would most certainly have been able to heal up Greymon's wounds by now.

All in all, Greymon was feeling rather pathetic and angry at himself. He had sustained far worse injuries in the past and the ones that he had received since getting this strange land and yet he was seriously flagging. This is what it would have been like if he had not had access to Kiriha's Xros Loader during the battles against the Bagra Army. Even the accelerated healing time Digimon required rest and that was not something that Greymon had committed himself to have much of since he'd got into this mess.

He was vaguely remembered as the time where MailBirdramon's wings had been made useless to him in the Disc Zone. MailBirdramon must have felt weak indeed to be grounded. And now he was feeling stupidly weak as the night set in. His foot was still heavily bruised from a combination of the Boulder from a catapult and his fall into the giant pit earlier and the fact that he had constantly been using it – forcing himself to carry on up the river – had not helped it at all. In fact it just made it get worse.

All of the little arrow wounds which he had sustained earlier had now healed themselves – they, after all, were not left un-rested just by walking – and the remaining arrows that had been launched in him which he had been unable to get out with his tail had been forced out by it healing skin, leaving him totally bare of arrows.

But his foot, as well as the shoulder that he had used to help break himself out of the pit, were still paining him and he realised that he finally had to stop when his foot gave out underneath him and he ended up crashing straight into the river.

So he had hauled himself up the bank and curled himself into a giant reptilian ball under some media cover from some trees and started to sleep. He knew that every second that he wasted before he found Bastemon was just further chance for her to succumb to any injuries that she had sustained. And the longer it was taken to find her more convinced he was that he never would.

Was it really possible that Bastemon was lost to them? And if that was the case… what the heck was he going to tell the others if and when they all met up again? What was he going to tell Knightmon? The humanoid Digimon would take it very hard indeed and consider it a failure in his duty to protect the Princess of his zone.

(Some people had often teased Knightmon about his unwavering loyalty to the Princess and wondered if there might be something "going on between them" and even Greymon had once pitched in the on said teasing a couple of times. But Knightmon had simply waved them away, looking embarrassed when telling them firmly that he was merely fulfilling what any loyal servant should. There was nothing romantic happening there. But that did not mean that he would be absolutely devastated when he found out that she was dead)

And he also wondered briefly about Revolmon – his other travelling companion that was now lost to them. What the heck had happened to him? Why had he not found them? He could definitely take care of himself much better than Bastemon could, hence why Greymon's priority now was Bastemon and not him, but he could really use Revolmon's help right now. Revolmon _was_ a treasure Hunter after all and though Bastemon was not exactly a treasure – she still needed to be found.

Eventually though he had managed to drift off to sleep and woke up the following morning feeling much better. His foot stilts whinged when he put weight on it but it was now good enough to ignore almost totally as he carried on downstream.

He tried a different tack today and found it to be much better than what he had been doing previous day. The river had narrowed considerably once again then he was now walking down the middle of it immersed up to the top of his legs but able to catch sense on either side of the bank if he leaned over it was a deep yet narrow river. This way he hoped to gain a sign – any sign – that Bastemon had been through their recently.

And, to be totally honest, he was rather surprised when he found it.

He almost walked straight past it before it was quite a faint scent and was heavily coated in mud and the natural smells of the river but he suddenly paused and sniffed hard on the Northern bank of the river.

Yes!

Yes, there it was. It was hard to get a lock on bird that was definitely Bastemon scent. He immediately hauled himself out of the river water – little rivulets of it cascading down his scaly legs and tail – and sniffed earnestly at the bank. She had been here at some point early yesterday and from what he could smell she had been travelling along the bank. Blimey, she really had been washed a very far by the river after she had dropped over the waterfall.

Nevertheless, Greymon was feeling extremely grateful to any Digimon God that was out there watching them. If Bastemon's scent was here then that meant she was still alive for if she was not than her body would have splintered into data already by this point. Or at least it meant that she had been alive when she left the scent. He just had to hope that she was in fact still alive. But this was definitely a start.

So he quickly hurried along the bank, any miniscule whinging left in his foot totally ignored now as he dashed so fast the entire river seemed to ripple with each footstep – following the scent trail along the bank that Bastemon had left behind her. She could not have been moving very fast and he hoped that he would be able to catch up with her soon.

And he was quite right. She had not been moving very fast at all. If you recall, she had had an arrow in her shoulder and had been extremely weak after of nights spent in a wet wash and had made very little progress along the riverbank at all. Greymon only had to go half a mile or so before he reached the end of the scent trail.

But there was no Bastemon at the other end.

Greymon began to sniff around the bushes earnestly, confusion written over his giant grey features. The scent had just cut out all of a sudden and did not seem to go anywhere except back into the river.

On closer inspection, Greymon could see the marks the Bastemon's claws had made on the side of the river as she scrambled up the bank. So _this_ was where she had actually come out of the river and she had been going the other way. Greymon had, evidently walked in the opposite direction she had taken.

Growling in frustration, Greymon immediately turned around the bank, following the scent trail back to the original point he had smelt it. Here as he looked more closely at the ground, he could see marks that made it look like Bastemon had been trying to head back to the water – presumably for a drink – and then everything just seemed to peter off.

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Bastemon's imprints in the ground, faint as they were, didn't even reach the side of the water again – a fact which Greymon braced himself for not spotting the first time. It was as if she had suddenly just vanished entirely. Or as if some giant bird had descended from the sky and…

Oh dear gosh! Were there giant birds here that hunted cats?

Greymon growled that actually looked up at the sky – this was a new world after all. Who was to say what was here and there were plenty of giant bird like creatures in the digital world including several large bird Digimon.

He furiously cast about in frustration, sniffing the air as he had done at the other end of the trail. But there was nothing just as before. It really was as if Bastemon had just disappeared into thin air. She had definitely been here – the scent was unmistakable but somehow, inexplicably, Greymon had gone and lost the trail almost before it had begun.

The giant dinosaur Digimon felt his toes grinding through the stones on the bank and his small clawed hands clenching. But nothing clenched harder than his teeth, interlocking in his giant jaws as he screwed his eyes shut and swift his tail madly out behind him, cutting through rocks with the pointed blade on the end.

And then he let out all the frustration he felt in one go with ground shaking roar and a burst of Mega Flame that fountained upwards into the air in a giant mushroom shaped plume that made it look as if a small atomic bomb had just gone off.

"IS ANYTHING GOING TO GO RIGHT FOR US IN THIS WORLD!?"

* * *

"It's beginning to look more grim than ever, Faramir," Damrod the Ranger said with a heavy voice, as he pored over a map of Eastern Gondor which had been laid out on the table before him and his commanding officer. "The forces of the Southrons do not seem to be receding – every day there seems to be another wave coming up from Near Harad and in far greater numbers than we had previously anticipated. And the number of Mûmakil they are bringing with them is the same. There is no way that we have the time to build enough traps for them. There's barely enough time to build trap for just one in the places that they're going."

"Grim news indeed," Faramir said with a grimace. "Is there any way that we can impede their numbers further?"

"Nothing springs to mind beyond what we are already doing," Damrod shook his head. "It seems there is very little that we can do besides continue to launch ambushes on their convoys. But our numbers are few, Faramir. And there are many patrols have already gotten past where we are currently stationed and heading closer to the gates of Mordor. Not to mention a number of our Men are out looking for that strange Dragon creature."

"The Dragon creature?" Faramir pondered. "Has there been any further word on that score?"

"We have received a few messages via signals from the scouting parties," Damrod nodded. They have been tracking the creature ever since it left the Forbidden Pool. Apparently it has not stopped following the river. It appears to be determined to stay close to a water source. A few of our boys wanted to take an opportunity to try and kill it in its sleep last night but the scouts was still few in number at the time and were ordered to stand down. There is little chance of them taking on an opponent like that. Even catching it unawares."

"Wise decision," Faramir nodded but he refused to say anything more on the subject for a while.

"Captain Faramir?" Damrod gave a sidelong glance to his superior. He noticed that Faramir no longer seem to be staring at the map on the table but rather through it. As if his mind was totally elsewhere. "Is something troubling you, my Lord?"

"I am beginning to think that we did the wrong thing," Faramir said, his hands gripping the side of the table as if wrestling with his own mind. "In attacking that Dragon creature."

"Captain?" Damrod frowned in bemusement.

"You heard me," Faramir sighed. "I think that we acted in haste before we knew all of the information."

"But sire. The creature was a Dragon. You have heard all of the stories about Dragons of the North regardless of what guise they come in. If we did not attack and drive it away…"

"… It won't have eventually discovered our presence and attempted to destroy us," Faramir murmured. "That is what I originally thought myself. And in some ways I still stand by the decision, for after all everything I know about Dragons has branded them as dangerous. But I am beginning to suspect that perhaps this Dragon was different after all."

"Different in what sense?" Damrod asked with a frown in place.

"In the sense of it not being a brutal killer and slaughter of races and civilisations. The prisoner in which we have detained here within our base. The Digimon. He claims that the creature is in fact one which fights for good and to protect those weaker than himself. He claims that we were wrong to attack him. And I am beginning to believe him."

"Believe the word of a prisoner, sire?" Damrod looked at Faramir as if he had gone slightly barmy.

"Yes."

"But that creature is also strange. Is it not a minion of Sauron?"

"I am beginning to think not," Faramir shook his head. "I have spent some time conversing with him – learning more about him – this Revolmon character. And so far they have seen nothing to beat me believe that he is truly a servant of the Dark Tower. He might be strange in appearance and he might even have some strange, never before seen weapon built into his very body… But I do not sense that he is dangerous."

"You sound like you have become an Elf overnight, sire," Damrod chuckled.

"It may sound strange to say it. But that is nevertheless what I feel. It is, I suppose, is voice and his eyes. His eyes me only be to orange pinpricks in his dark domed head but I can still see plenty of emotion in them nevertheless. And when he discusses his friends – the creatures that he was spotted with and apparently many others that may be close by – he seems to be very concerned and worried for their safety. There are few servants of Sauron who could have such a label applied to them."

"There are the men that are siding with him themselves," pointed out Damrod. "I would not apply such a trace to an Orc or a Troll but they are Men just as we are. I would wager that they still feel the emotions and senseless when they lose one of their room in the field."

"I would imagine so too. And yet I feel that we cannot lump this Revolmon in with those Men. It seems almost certain that he would be an agent or at least the creation of the Enemy – the weapon built into his very body would seem to be proof of that. And yet he seems earnest and honest whenever he speaks. And although the Dragon had plenty of opportunity to chase us down and attempt to devour us all it did not. It simply went on its way. The question is – did it go on its way because it did not know where we were or because it did not care. Or perhaps because it had an alternative motive."

"… You always were a pretty good judge of character, sire," Damrod mused. "Do you believe that this Revolmon is in fact telling the truth about all this?"

"I wish that I could tell you. But I actually do not know what to think at this point. It seems that my entire perception of many things has been turned on his head with this." He paused briefly before saying, "Has anybody seen any further sign of the cat woman that was travelling with them? The one that supposedly disappeared at some point during the fighting?"

"There has been no word," Damrod shook his head. "And the area around has been thoroughly searched and there has been no sign of her. Or any other strange creatures for that matter."

It was at this point that there was some yelling from outside – several Rangers seem to be clamouring amongst themselves and Faramir was instantly in motion – rushing out to join them. It did not take him long, only merely second, to spot what it was they were looking at.

A giant mushroom shaped plume of fire in the distance, that was blasting his way up into the sky.

"Well, I think that I know what that would probably be," Damrod observed dryly.

"The Dragon," nearby ranger muttered. As if it needed saying.

"Your orders, sire," Damrod looked over at Faramir.

Faramir bit his lip, his eyes half closed within decision as he racked his brain for an answer. Should he go and attack the Dragon once again should he sit it out and let it go about its business? Or should he do something that is totally against everything he's ever done in the past and release their prisoner to go and find his "buddy."

Since when did making decisions such as this become so difficult?

Although theoretically there was not very much they could do in this situation. The plume of fire on the horizon was quite a way in the distance. It would definitely take them quite a while to reach it and they were short-handed as it was.

On the other hand, the Dragon was following the river and that meant that it would eventually make its way to the Anduin and therefore possibly to Gondor strongholds like Cair Andros or Osgiliath. Both of those locations had already been under heavy attack from the Mordor in recent years. How much destruction and death could a Dragon – even a wingless one – cause in places like those.

Faramir made his decision.

"Assemble a hunting party," he said. "Leave a sizeable number of our Rangers here to guard the Forbidden Pool but form a detachment to head out and meet with the Dragon head on. But this time, I would like to bring the prisoner with us. They claimed that they were friends. Let us see if that is holds true when we confront the Dragon the second time."

* * *

Revolmon bashed his head against the wall yet again. He had been here for much longer than he cared to think about, although even he did not know exactly how long he'd been here. It was difficult to tell much of anything when you were locked in the store room. He, like Faramir, was in quite a quandary. He was desperate to get out there and try and find the others and yet he knew that any escape attempt on his part would be considered an act of aggression. Therefore making everything that he'd done so far pointless.

His attempts to convince the men that he was not a threat to them would be utterly dashed straight away.

It was definitely a sticky wicket.

He was pretty sure that he could have blasted that is way out of the door at any point. But he also didn't know how many men there were in this base and debated whether he could really take them all on. We have fought large armies before but never by himself and while he was not afraid for himself, what good would getting himself killed to do the others? Would it not be better to convince these people that he was really not a threat and that neither were they?

Everything raged in his mind.

But, as it turned out, he would not have to make any decisions himself. For shortly afterwards Faramir entered his room again causing the Digimon to look around.

"What is it this time?" The treasure hunting Digimon asked.

"I wish to see for myself whether your claims are in fact true. Your Dragon friend is definitely still alive and on the move – we just saw a cloud of fire on the horizon that could only belong to him. We are going out to re-engage him. And this time we want you to come with us."

"Seriously?"

"I may be taking a big risk in placing my trusting you, Digimon," Faramir folded his arms. "I may be about to make a horrendous mistake in allowing you to join up with your Dragon friend once again. Therefore I shall not be taking any chances. Until such a time I have validation that you are indeed good at heart, you will be under constant observation. And when we do meet with your Dragon friend once again, you will have at least thirty arrows trained on you so if you do attempt anything malicious or you try to escape us you will find yourself filled with more arrow shaft than any one of our practice range targets."

"I understand," Revolmon clambered to his feet and turned around fully. Faramir winced slightly as the barrel of Revolmon's gun sighted on him – Revolmon could not really do anything else about it considering that it was a part of his body and was pointing at the front of. "But you do not need to worry. I have no intention of putting anyone in harm's way that doesn't deserve it. And you certainly do not."

"I certainly hope so," Faramir muttered as he pulled Revolmon's two pistols out from under his cloak. "I shall be keeping hold of these for now you already have quite enough of them on your person already – there is very little that I can do about that at this stage. But they shall be returned to you if you in your Dragon friend prove trustworthy."

"And the Princess?" Revolmon pressed.

"There has been no word of her yet."

Revolmon frowned, concern written all over his features. "I'm really, really hope that she has not just curled up under a tree and gone to sleep."

"Is she likely to do that?" Faramir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She might be worried or injured or something," Revolmon shrugged. "But sometimes I really don't think that she has any control whatsoever over her metabolism. It is entirely possible that she has just nodded off somewhere. It's what she usually does. Though admittedly never in a situation like this before."

"Your friends are most peculiar, Revolmon," Faramir actually had to suppress a chuckle. "And I hope that you do not take offence to such a thing."

"Where we come from we are definitely not that peculiar," Revolmon snickered before his face became serious and said, "Now then, let's go and meet with Greymon. Before another misunderstanding occurs…"

* * *

Greymon was most definitely not prone to temper tantrums but in this case he definitely needed to vent his spleen on something. And unfortunately for the landscape around him, it had become the target of his irritation and wrath.

He had refrained himself, barely, from actually setting fire to the forest although he had been sorely tempted. But the frustration which had been building up inside him for days now needed to be released against something and that was why he was currently hammering his tail through the foliage to knock down a couple of innocent trees before he roared and slammed his head against the larger one, tearing it up from the roots and sending it crashing down with a colossal thud.

He was not saying anything intelligible anymore. He was just roaring. He looked for all the world like a real primal Tyrannosaurus Rex from ancient times were it not for them metallic horns and tail tip. And he certainly felt like one too. Especially when he raged right across the river in a full on charge to slam another tree so hard he tossed it straight out of the ground and into the air, sending its soaring out across the Forest.

Just how much more could go wrong in this little "adventure" of theirs anyway? He was furious, he was hungry and he was alone. Come to think of it, he could not even remember the last time he had been alone. Totally alone at any rate. There was almost always someone else from Xros Heart or Blue Flare, even in the five years since the humans had left. But this time he was well and truly on his own.

It was not like Greymon to be sentimental. But he was definitely finding the company sorely lacking.

But what Greymon still didn't know was that he was being watched. By more Rangers of Ithilien that were hiding in the bushes and the trees around him. They had been watching him since early yesterday and while they had taken no move against him so far as per the orders relayed to them by the signalling, they were definitely getting nervous at this display of mass of aggression and mindless violence.

And that was when Greymon got too close to one of them by slamming a boulder with his tail with enough force to splinter it into and send both halves flying. One of those halves crashed through the bushes and forced one of them hidden Rangers to dive out of the way with a surprised yelp. A yelp that drew Greymon's attention, causing his head to snap round in the direction it had come from and a growl to ripple across his toothy mouth.

"It's attacking us!" The Ranger that had just avoided being flattened cried. "It has discovered our presence!"

Of course, this was not true. But the Rangers were not to know that – all they had seen was an attempt by this vicious Dragon to kill one of their own comrades and that was something that they did not take lightly to. There were only about six of them in the actual party – far less than there had been when Greymon had come under attack before – but nevertheless they immediately started pouring arrows off their bowstrings, sending small burst out of the leaves to impact on Greymon's body once again.

A guttural growl rose up within the dinosaur Digimon as he felt the little pinpricks on his skin once again. He did not know exactly who has ambushes were. But he definitely knew that they were the same as before – the same ones that had caused him to lose his charge and give him his foot injury.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking the attacks.

But then his red eyes snapped open and before he could even register his own movement he slammed his way into the trees and sent several of them rolling, crashing into their companions to knock them down too and forcing three of the Rangers, still hidden from his sight, to dash backwards to avoid the falling trunks. Greymon felt fire leaking from his jaws and had to desperately suppress the urge to blast it outwards at his attackers. That would surely incinerate them, but he wanted a good look at exactly who it was this time.

But that thought was about the only thing in his conscious mind. The rest of him, built up by the frustration, was just angry! And so he crashed through the undergrowth and over the fallen trees, splintering them underneath his giant clawed feet as if they were nothing but simple matchsticks and his tail lashing out to tear some others out of the ground with every step.

The small Rangers scouting party were not fool enough to try and brave his anger and instantly began to flee back into the trees, occasionally firing an arrow behind them in an attempt to slow him down but it was definitely futile. Greymon was akin to an unstoppable tank and keep barely felt the arrows at all. Thanks to a combination of his tough armour and his rage.

He was also significantly faster than the Rangers and although he still could not see them properly – just a few green flashes of movement ahead of him was all he could make out – he quickly gained on them.

And when he came upon another boulder, he instinctively lowered his head and walked his horn underneath it, flinging it into the air with a violent twist of his neck.

And this proved to be extremely effective. The boulder came crashing down through the trees, fracturing branches as it went, to crash right in front of one of the fleeing Rangers. With a startled yell, the Ranger fell backwards into the shrubbery and Greymon's head snapped around to the source once again, charging over instantly.

As the Ranger tried to scramble to his feet, a massive clawed foot descended on the boulder that had almost landed on him and crushed it into gravel. A scream was torn from his throat as he twisted around onto his back and looked up, eyes wide, staring at the mighty beast which was now looming over him, its blazing red eyes boring into him. He reached desperately for his bow but the wingless Dragon now had fire leaking from the sides of his mouth, a clear warning not to do anything stupid.

But the Ranger was certain that his time had come and prepared to face the fiery inferno with a fearful gulp.

"A… Human…" The Ranger heard the creature growl. "I am being attacked… By humans…"

The other Rangers, seeing their comrade in such peril, immediately turned around to fire more arrows at Greymon's side. Greymon totally ignored them, continuing to stare down at the fallen Man beneath his feet.

The Ranger gulped again and tried bravely, "I am proud Man of Gondor. I will not beg for mercy. If you must kill me then be done with it, Dragon."

Greymon did not see anything wrong with being called a Dragon for he was after all a Dragon Digimon. But he still snarled viciously and swung his tail up and around, crashing it into the ground right next to the Ranger. The Man gasped fearfully as the metal blade crashed into the ground heavier than any battleaxe right next to him. But he was uninjured. The blade had missed.

That had been Greymon's intention. He was raging mad… But not raging mad enough to go on a blind killing spree.

Instead he growled, "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

The Man blinked. "What?" He asked bewildered.

"It is the fault of you and your companions that I am in this predicament!" Greymon roared, and as he did so the other Rangers stopped firing, listening to his words – none of them had ever heard a Dragon speak to one of them before. "You had no cause to attack me and yet you have felt the need to do it not once, but twice now! It is because of your ambush that I have now lost the Princess that I was supposed to be protecting! One of you shot her in the shoulder with your arrows and she fell off my back on into the river. She fell over that waterfall. And now you cannot even leave me alone so that I can try and find her again! She's an innocent girl!"

The Ranger was astonished to hear this. They had all heard stories of Dragons taking princesses captive. But never a story about a Dragon trying to protect one.

"She doesn't know anything about looking after herself!" Greymon bellowed at him, leaning his head down so that his horn was inches from during the Man in the stomach. "And now I cannot find her scent! How am I supposed to tell her subjects if I cannot find her?"

Greymon lifted his tail out of the ground and slammed it down once again, this time on the other side of the Ranger to create an identical slash in the ground.

"You have done enough damage!" He snarled. "But I have never seen a human before and I have no desire to start now even if you are a far cry from Kiriha and all the other humans I once knew and fought alongside. I do not know where I am and I do not know the laws of this land but I will tell you this only once. LEAVE…ME…ALONE!"

And Greymon stamped off into the trees back towards the river, ignoring the arrows that were once again sticking out of his side and his foot descending on top of the Man as he went – causing him to cry out and then blink in relief when Greymon avoided actually stepping on him and the man found himself between his giant toes before the foot lifted off and Greymon continued on his way.

"Don't you dare try and attack me again!" Greymon roared over his shoulder. "I have to find the Princess and I will not spare anyone who tries to hinder me from my goal if you strike at me again. Humans or not!"

The fallen Ranger was left struggling to breathe – unsure whether to feel traumatised by his several near death experiences of Greymon's foot and tail for relief that he was still alive. The short time after that, all six of the Ranger scouting party had gathered once again. None of them knew what to say. None of them knew how to react.

The Dragon had spared them. That was something that no Dragon in the history of Middle Earth had ever done once it started the chase. It had even had one of their number practically in its jaws and it had just left with a warning.

And the things that it had said…

"Maybe… Maybe we should report this," laughed the near victim.

* * *

Greymon returned to the river uninterrupted and began casting about for a scent once again. But he was unlikely to find one any time soon. He had absolutely no idea what had happened and Bastemon and the only thing that he could smell was the river and the heavy scent of the forest around him.

Saleme had covered her tracks very well using the heavy scented leaves to blot out the trail both in terms of scent and site. She was a master assassin for a reason. When Greymon didn't have a clue what had happened; he was totally at a loss.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" He snarled, knowing that following the river now was probably futile since he had proof that Bastemon had somehow gotten out of it. "What direction do I take? Princess… What has happened to you?"

* * *

The answer to that question was unfortunately that the Princess was already many miles away and going further North. Even despite her panic and fear at being held captive in this manner she still could barely help her metabolism and her constant need to sleep. In fact, sleep came as a release to her when she eventually nodded off, crying to herself in muffled whimpers until the world of dreams overtook her.

In the world of dreams she could hear no clinking of chains, could hear no stamping feet of a marching army, and could feel no manacles around her limbs or pinecones in her mouth. It was significantly better than being awake. But… Sooner or later she would have to wake up again and when she did and she found herself still being carried on the litter and still chained up and gagged, she burst into fresh tears again.

She had been hoping that her captivity was just part of the nightmare that started during her sleep.

But that was just too good to be true it seemed.

Eventually though, while the fear never left her, she managed to get over her sadness enough to look about her once again. It seemed that most of the people around her were studiously ignoring her in order to continue on their path. But Bastemon did notice every now and then people glancing across at with curiosity written on what part of their faces she could actually see through their heavy garb. She could see it in their eyes. And some of them held some bemusement.

She supposed that she really shouldn't be surprised. After all, these were humans. And most humans, as forestry knew, had absolutely no contact with Digimon at all other than to see them briefly during the fight between Tactimon and OmegaShoutmon in the human world and when all the Digimon were returning after the final showdown between Shoutmon X7 Superior Mode and DarknessBagramon. That meant that even if any of these humans had been privy to those situations, which she guessed they had not, this would be their first close encounter with anything like her just like Saleme had said.

In a way, that just made Bastemon even more scared. She was not very experienced in terms of other people, but she knew that a lot of humans did have a fear of what they did not know and understand. Akari had told her that once. And that has made her wonder further exactly what was in store for her now that she had been taken.

She was not looking forward to finding out. At all.

But it seemed that she would have to wait a while longer for the humans were showing no signs of slacking.

Bastemon almost wished there was another captive. Misery loves company, as was said on occasion. But that was not a fair thought. And what Bastemon really, really wanted was, of course, to not be a captive at all.

She was forced to endure hour after hour of falling in and out of sleep and getting further cramped at being unable to wriggle much from her position.

But eventually she was jolted out of another rather rough slumber as the litter was set down on the ground. She mumbled questioningly through her gag but none of the four Men that had been carrying her paid her any attention beyond to look at her for a moment. Bastemon looked round and saw that the entire group were settling down for what appeared to be a break of some kind. Probably a short one considering they were doing a little but breaking out small rations from satchels at their waists and beginning to eat. They were still in the middle of nowhere so they definitely could not reach their destination yet.

Bastemon wriggled, hoping for freedom of some kind, but guessing that it was not going to come.

But, to her slight surprise, it did. One of the four Men that had been carrying her began working on the four chains connecting her to the litter. A couple of others hold her to her knees, but did not remove any more of her chains, leaving her hands bound behind her and her legs shackled closely. But one of them did begin to earn time her gag and she gratefully spat out the pinecone, along with all the little woodchips she had bitten off with her sharp teeth.

She was, to be frank, a bedraggled mess. And a lot of her face was still damp from the tears.

But the one that had untied the gag presented her with some kind of vegetable matter and muttered, "Eat this. Lady Saleme has instructed me to make sure that you eat and keep up your strength."

Bastemon made no effort to look tough. She awkwardly reached forward and bit into the greenery, feeling her mouth get a little more refreshed as she gulped it down. Another of them came over with a flask filled with water that he uncorked and presented to her as well. Bastemon's mouth felt so soothed by the liquid rippling down her throat that she gasped in relief audibly.

"Oh, you like that do you?" One of the Men chuckled, before reaching out and jokingly ruffling her long red hair between large ears. "Isn't that a good kitty cat? Would you like some milk? Or perhaps a nice mouse?"

Bastemon almost smiled before she realised exactly what was being said her. So used to living a life of being pampered was she that she almost slipped back into the mode of Princess being waited on by servants but a couple of seconds later she realised that this was most definitely not the case. She was still definitely a captive and they were treating her like she was… a pet of some kind. She definitely had many catlike instincts… And a glass of milk would be very nice right at this point…

But she was definitely nobody's pet.

Bastemon felt something come over her. Later on, she would wonder if it had anything to do with the taunting captor mentioning a mouse, which had flashed a brief memory of Chuchumon the giant mouse Digimon into her mind, but she immediately felt uncharacteristically feral and before she knew exactly what she was doing she had lashed out with her face and sunk her very sharp fangs into the humans wrist as he pulled his hand away. Her claws were still useless to her, wrapped in bandages as they were, but her teeth were now made options as weapons with the pinecone removed.

There was a howl from the Man as he wrenched his hand back but Bastemon clung on grimly, unsure whether this feral side of her head come from but determined not to let go. In fact she only sink their fangs deeper causing the man's howl to become a scream of agony.

The moment did not last long though, for one of her other captors immediately went into action, grabbing fallen branch off the ground and smacking her over the back of the head with it. Bastemon gasped and released her grip, teeth dripping slightly with red liquid that she guessed was blood and dropped to the ground with a dazed thud.

She was out of it for several moments, the back of her head throbbing where the blow had struck, but when she regained her senses she saw a couple of the Men doing their best the bandage up the rest of their wounded comrade while her original captor, Saleme, was kneeling over her and looking at her with mild amusement.

"Well, well, well it seems that the kitty has yet to be defanged even if she has been declawed," she said with a slight chuckle. "You know that that was not a very wise decision do you not? At least we were generous enough to give you food and water and you repay us for our mild hospitality – I admit that the chains are most definitely not hospitable but that was – by attempting to bite the limb off of one of my Men. Not wise. Not a wise decision at all, little princess."

"I don't… know… what happened…" Bastemon flinched. "I just did it before I could stop myself…"

"Looks like there's some animal in you after all then does it not?" Saleme said. "We'll have to be more careful with you from now on, but I just find you all the more intriguing for this. Still, I'm afraid that that action means that we have to resort to other techniques. After all what good is a captive if she does not know her place?"

Bastemon's eyes widened fearfully. "What are you going t…" Before she could finish her sentence one of the other captors had seized her by the back of the neck and yanked her up again while Saleme was jamming a fresh pinecone behind her teeth, which was still slightly red with blood, before tying the right around her face once again.

"What am I going to do?" Saleme asked with a small smirk. "Well, for one thing, I think that we need to lower our hospitality a little further. For the first leg of your journey as a captive we've dutifully carried you like the Princess you are. But that's about to change. Because look what I have for you."

Bastemon blinked and then her eyes shot open as Saleme shackled a heavy iron manacle, wider than the others, around her neck. Attached to this manacle was a single long chain, the other end of which Saleme held in her grasp.

Bastemon had been given a leash. A collar and a leash.

"From now on you will be under my personal care," Saleme said. "And there will be no more being carried for you, my dear. From now on you will be marching with the rest of us. Perhaps not involuntarily, but you will definitely be walking. I saw you drift off to sleep multiple times while you are being carried. I'm not going to be having any of that any more."

As she was talking, the other captors were releasing the chain attaching her wrists and ankles together and had attached and new longer chained to the manacles on her ankles in place of the short one that had held them together, leaving Bastemon room to move her legs around but certainly not with a great deal of precision.

"And break is over," Saleme said, jerking on Bastemon's leash and pulling her to her feet. "Come on now. Let's go for a walk."

And so Bastemon was jerked forward by the neck, her hands still resolutely secured that her new restraints on her feet allowing her to stumble awkwardly along in Saleme's wake. The Haradrim started up the march again and she was forced to keep pace.

Bastemon did not think that it was possible to get any more miserable. But even as she thought it she was jerked forward again, pulled along to whatever fate awaited her.

* * *

Yes, yes, I know. I am horribly, horribly mean to be doing this to Bastemon. She is one of the most innocent people in Digimon history. And yet bad things do often seemed to happened to innocent people. Distressing is that may have been I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter anyway. And I hope that you are all anxious to find out exactly what Bastemon's fate will be. But for now, you will have to wait a bit longer.

Goodbye for now everybody. If all goes well, I may be able to post up the next chapter of QOTG by very late today. If not, then early as tomorrow just like this one was. But one thing is certain – I will definitely be posting up two chapters after this in the next two days.

TTFN.

* * *

Next time…

Unaware of what has become of Merry and Pippin, Aragorn and his company run on across the plains. But as dawn breaks over the lands of Rohan, they are about to run into some more company. Company in the form of many horsemen riding South to meet them.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 36 : The Riders of Rohan**


	36. The Riders of Rohan

This chapter is a little late, but that's mostly because my sleeping schedule has been totally shot to pieces recently. And I have absolutely no idea why. It's annoying as hell, but there was an occasion just yesterday were I was not able to get to sleep until 6:30 in the morning. Yesterday was almost entirely a battle to stay awake in an effort to go to sleep at a normal, early time and try and sorted out. Needless to say, I was not particularly in the mood for writing. Or even speaking. But it's here now, and here in this chapter features a classic scene from movies but this time it's been very much altered thanks to the presence of the Digimon. Things are definitely changing in middle Earth. Slowly but surely, they are.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 36:- The Riders of Rohan**

* * *

Even Mervamon had to admit to herself that she was starting to feel slightly fatigued. It was only ever so slightly, and she had full confidence that she could still run like this for a few days more, but the sheer fact that they'd been running for almost three days non-stop now meant that even her incredible endurance was starting to show signs of wear.

Quite frankly, everyone that she was now surrounded by was amazing her with the fact that they too were continuing their run. Legolas appeared to be like her, and did not look particularly tired even at this point. And Mervamon was pretty sure that Aragorn _was_ tired but if he was then he most definitely was not showing it. He pushed on doggedly.

But to be honest, it was the other two that were impressing her at the moment. Boromir and Gimli had been huffing and puffing almost constantly for two days now, and yet despite the fact that they would clearly like nothing better than to stop and rest for about a year they were still going. They still pushed themselves forward, their feet slamming the ground so hard that Mervamon suspected they also had a serious ache in their soles. But apart from some muttering on Gimli's part on how he was very clearly not built for something like this, they just ran forward without verbal complaint.

To Mervamon's eyes, this was a testament to the trust and friendship that had been built up between their little group as they continued on whatever quest they had been on. She still did not know the subject of said quest but it was clear that the group had been through many trials together. This relentless pursuit of two of their own comrades, captured by the enemy and taken away, was clear proof of that.

It definitely reminded Mervamon of Xros Heart in general. She briefly snickered to herself, as she imagined what kind of creature would emerge if all of these four were to DigiXros with one another. Aragorn X4 perhaps. Not that that was possible, even if they did have a Xros Loader handy, but it was still fairly amusing.

She noticed Boromir in particular had a very set face. He must have been taking this the most personally of all. According to what she knew, the Hobbits that they were following had been under his protection when they had been taken. He must have considered this a failure on his part. Mervamon knew that were she in his position, she would probably feel the same way. Even if it was completely unjustified.

Small wonder that Boromir was managing to keep up with the group. Even though he'd been shot in the front three times with arrows and looked to be on the verge of simply falling over with the slightest push.

Conversing was kept to a minimum. Most everyone's focus seemed to be simply on placing one foot in front of the other. And Mervamon joined them in this; Cutemon still perched on top of Aragorn's shoulder as though Dúnedain Ranger led them on. The small pink bunny had been helping to illuminate the trail with his glowing hands throughout the night. But as the Sun poked itself above the horizon in the distance behind them, indicating that they were still going north-west, which was good because that was the direction they had been intending to take, he lowered his hands again.

It seemed he would no longer be needed. But he had helped to keep them on course and that was good enough.

* * *

While the Sun began to clamber higher, Legolas briefly paused to look back at it. His mouth set into a thin line as he stared at the Sun as if it was some kind of bad omen. Mervamon paused briefly to look at him and then back at the Sun.

"Problem?" she asked, as Boromir ran past them.

"The rising Sun is red," Legolas said gravely. "It tells us that during its absence last night, blood was spilled."

Mervamon looked momentarily alarmed, turning her head to look back at the giant orb that was rising into the sky and was indeed tinted red.

"You are certain?" she asked. "That sounds quite morbid," she muttered.

"The fruit of the Great Trees does not lie," Legolas informed as he turned around and started to run again, the large Digimon following close behind. "It simply states what it observes."

"If that is the case," Mervamon frowned. "Then should it not rise with a red colour most every morning? After all, you did say there was some kind of war on with this Dark Lord Sauron guy. I'd imagine that somewhere in this world blood is spilt almost every night with something like that going on."

"The light that the Sun casts differs depending on what happens in the vicinity of its chosen rays," the Elf stated, hurrying to catch up on the ground that he had missed with just that brief stop. "It gives messages to those who know how to interpret them. Not only does this mean that blood was spilled last night, it is telling us that blood was spilt in close proximity to us."

"Do you think…?" Mervamon began.

"Let us hope that it is not the case," Legolas said firmly. "But there is little that could be worse than what I fear it means. And what you most likely suspect it means."

"The Sun certainly is useful then," Mervamon muttered. "The Sun in our world never does anything like that."

"Perhaps that is because you do not know what to look for," Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "Elvenkind are particularly versed in the ways of the world and everything above or below it. Our skills lie more in the ways of nature than do Dwarves and Men."

"Quit showing off to the lady, Elf," Gimli huffed from behind them in a loud voice. "You do not hear me bragging about the incredible skill with stonework that we Dwarves possess."

"But you cannot truthfully admit that you would not have done by this point if the opportunity had presented itself to you," Legolas said with a smirk, pleased to get his mind off the prospect of the red Sun behind him.

"Nonsense!" Gimli cried, hefting his axe along. "If there is one other thing that we Dwarves are well renowned for it is our modesty."

Legolas let out a snort that was quite unbecoming for an Elven Prince. "Now you are just deliberately trying to sound silly."

"Save your breath for the running," Aragorn instructed from up in the front. "We are gaining fast. Perhaps we shall even be able to catch up with them by the end of the day. Though we must reach them before they themselves reach the gates of Isengard."

This was a point that both the Elf and the Dwarf could agree on quite readily. So they quickly closed their mouths and pushed forward. Mervamon smirked. It was quite clear that both of them, despite any disagreements that they did have, listened to Aragorn's authority.

"Wait a minute, kyu!" Cutemon suddenly cried with his high-pitched voice, hopping up onto Aragorn's head and his ear-like sense organs waving wildly in the air. "Stop for a moment. I'm picking something up, kyu," he placed his miniature hands on either side of his head and shut his eyes to concentrate.

Not entirely sure about the extent of Cutemon's abilities and what he could and could not detect, Aragorn pulled to a reluctant but rather curious stop. Everyone else behind them followed suit, a couple of them gasping for breath as usual, but all of them with their eyes fixed on Cutemon with the exception of Aragorn himself who could not do such a thing since the little bunny was on his head.

The bunny continued waving the ear thingies for a couple of moments before he opened his eyes and said, "Yes, kyu. There's something coming towards us from up ahead. I've been detecting what sounded like a lot more footprints for a while but I thought that I was mistaken. Now I can hear them better, kyu, and it doesn't sound like footprints at all anymore. It sounds like hoofbeats now. There's lots and lots of things with hooves heading towards us, kyu."

"Hooves?" Aragorn asked, bending down and forcing Cutemon to jump off his head as he placed his ear to the ground. "You are certain?"

"Absolutely, kyu," Cutemon nodded his head vigourously. "I know what hooves sound like: I once helped to fight against a big army of Centarumon and Sagittarimon. It's definitely hooves. And it sounds like there are good many of whatever it is coming towards us, kyu."

"Well," Boromir murmured, continuing to gasp but managing to get his breathing under control, which was more than could be said for Gimli at this point. "We are in the land of Rohan. It should not surprise any of us to hear hoofbeats. This is the land of the Horse Lords, so I would assume that we have a group of Rohirrim incoming."

"I shall go and see for myself," Legolas said, bounding nimbly up the side of the steep rocky wall so that he could see over the rise of the hills that stretched out before them, blocking off their view of the surrounding land.

He crested the top nimbly, crouching on top of the rocks like he was preparing to spring right off them, and stared out at the surroundings.

"What is the verdict, Legolas?" Aragorn called up to him.

"Cutemon is right!" Legolas yelled back down. "There are a number of riders inbound, and I would estimate that they are still a couple of miles away. They appear to be over one hundred in number – I can see one hundred and twenty-seven horses, eight of which do not have riders. Each of those riders bears a long spear, and many of them hold shields before their leather and metal plated armour."

"That certainly sounds like the Rohirrim," Boromir said with a faint smirk. "Can you see any sign of who might be leading the group? I may personally know them. I have visited Rohan on many occasions and know the people of Edoras well."

"Yes, I can see one Man out at the front of the line," the Elf replied. "He has a tall helmet with a horse tail plume, rust red coloured leather armour and a noble stature."

"Ah," Boromir nodded. "Then I believe I know the identity of their leader already. It can be none other than Éomer, First Captain of Rohan himself. He and I are on excellent terms as of the last time that we spoke. Admittedly that was some time ago now – it has been quite a few years since I last gave Rohan a visit. I have been more concerned with affairs down in Gondor for that. But if Éomer's leading the group then perhaps he can lend us a hand. He always was one given to doing anything in his power to protect the innocent."

"I guess that he would fit in quite well with us then," Mervamon muttered with a chuckle. Cutemon grinned.

Legolas practically bolted off the rocks and was down on the ground level with them again in two quick bounds. "Then perhaps we shall stop and speak with them?" he asked. "If that is our intention then we must decide soon for they will soon be upon us at the speed with which they are riding. The horses of the Men of Rohan truly are fleet of hoof."

"That is right, kyu. I can hear the hoof beats growing louder all the time," Cutemon agreed.

"Well, while I appreciate the rest that this is affording me," Gimli voiced his own opinion. "Are we sure that these people are trustworthy? I had heard rumours that the Men of Rohan had begun supplying horses to Mordor."

"A scandalous rumour if there ever was one," Boromir huffed. "The Men of Rohan are honourable and just people. If any Rohan horses ever found their way to Mordor it was through theft and deception. This I can assure you. The day that a Man of Rohan gives up his horse to evil like that is the day that Sauron descends from on high in Barad-dûr and starts handing out flagons of ale to the Men of Gondor. Flagons of ale that have not been poisoned at that. Horses mean everything to the Rohirrim. They base their lives around them. And to send a horse off to a fate like it would no doubt receive in their hands of Sauron's Nazgûl… the Rohirrim would consider it sending off one of their own brethren."

"Passionate Men then," Mervamon muttered.

"About that particular subject yes," Boromir nodded. "Rohan barely even has any infantry at all. You'd be hard-pressed to find a warrior of Rohan that was not in possession of a horse."

"Then do we stop and greet them or do we go on?" Mervamon asked with brow raised. "I don't have anything to contribute to the decision. After all I have absolutely no idea where I even am, let alone anything about these people."

"Then it is your decision, Aragorn," Gimli turned to look at the Ranger. "Can we afford to spare the time?"

"I know the Men of Rohan as well," Aragorn agreed. "I once rode to war with them in years past. They are indeed good Men. And if they have spare horses as Legolas claims they do, and I have no reason whatsoever to doubt the eyes of an Elf, then perhaps Éomer would consider lending us a few for our journey. With the aid of a horse, we could catch up to those Uruk-Hai within a couple of hours, if that."

"Then it is decided," Boromir nodded. "We shall wait here until they meet with us."

"It is not entirely decided," Aragorn shook his head, before his gaze came to rest on Mervamon and Cutemon. "While the Men of Rohan are good people, I do know that they are not ones that are prone to immediate trust. And I suspect that they will call into question the allegiance of our two Digimon friends just as we did at first. I highly doubt that they would have seen anything like the pair of you. If they were to set eyes on you, they might possibly assume the worst."

"Are we going to have to expect to see that response to our faces everywhere we go?" Mervamon asked with a fairly irritated frown.

"Most likely," Gimli stated, leaning on his axe. "These are times when practically nobody trusts anyone anymore. Blindly trusting someone is a good way to get yourself killed."

"Indeed," Aragorn nodded. "And perhaps it would be better if the riders of Rohan left without ever knowing that you were here, Mervamon. Cutemon they might accept, for he is small and does not look particularly threatening in any way. But your giant sword and the fact that you have a snake for an arm… well, that is an entirely different story."

"For the record, I still find that fact about your arm enormously strange," Gimli volunteered.

"It is a simple fact of my existence," Mervamon pouted at him. "There is nothing that I can do about it. Though I must admit it can sometimes be a little inconvenient to have only one proper hand. But when it comes to combat, having an extra set of eyes can sometimes make all the difference."

The Medullia lifted up, almost of its own accord, and flicked its forked tongue in Gimli's general direction. Gimli, still feeling slightly uncomfortable around the snake that was also an arm, flinched slightly but did his best to ignore it.

"What are you suggesting I do?" Mervamon asked with slight suspicion.

"I am wondering if it would perhaps be better if you and Cutemon were to conceal yourselves from the eyes of the Rohirrim," Aragorn gave them an apologetic look. "We would not want them to see you and assume the worst. Not when it is likely that our presence out here could cause suspicion anyway. Lone travellers such as ourselves are rare in these times. And unfortunately being in the presence of something the Rohirrim do not understand could unfortunately have consequences. Particularly if Saruman has started making his move against the Men of Rohan, which I highly suspect he has."

Mervamon glowered slightly. "I do not like the idea of hiding like a yellowbellied coward peeking their head around the corner. Or out from under a rock. It is not the natural way for a warrior to behave. And if I am to remain in this world, as it seems I must for the foreseeable future since I know no way of returning to mine, then I cannot skulk around for ever. Sooner or later I will have to face the music."

"What music?" Boromir asked in slight confusion.

"Never mind about that," Mervamon shook it off with a wave of her hand. "My point is that if I am to be of any use, and helping to fight this war or in finding my own friends, hiding is not the answer."

"That may be the case but unfortunately I believe delicacy could prove more useful in this situation," Aragorn replied. "And it is vital that we make this meeting as short as possible so that we can get back on the trail. You have my apologies, Mervamon. As well as you, Cutemon. But please try to understand that the people of this world might struggle with the concept of your story. Many of us think we know of all the creatures that can be found in our world. Coming across you might be a bit of a shock."

"Particularly if you are holding that massive sword of yours," Gimli agreed. "And if they moved to attack you while you draw it out of thin air, they would be convinced of dark sorcery. And considering one of their closest neighbours is a Wizard that has gone bad and now seeks to help the Dark Lord in conquering everything, you could probably get why that would make them feel uneasy… come to think of it, that would be a particularly handy skill to have with my axes. I don't suppose you could teach me how to do it."

"No, I cannot. It is just something that I have always been able to do in this form," Mervamon muttered, before she sighed and nodded. "Very well then," she reluctantly agreed. "Come Cutemon, let us conceal ourselves somewhere while our new companions have their little chat with the incoming horseriders."

"They said I would be alright, kyu," Cutemon objected.

"That may be but I would prefer it if we not risk it, thank you very much," Mervamon shook her head. "I'd rather not have to explain to Dorulumon when I next see him again that you were skewered on the end of spear. Not for any reason."

"Okiedokie, kyu," Cutemon replied, and quickly leapt on top of the head of Mervamon's snake arm. The tall Digimon gave the rest of the party a brief nod before she hurried away, ducking behind several large boulders and tucking herself into a gap, where she felt she would not be seen on the other side.

"Keep an ear out for me, would you Cutemon?" Mervamon asked of the small bunny. "I probably won't be able to hear them from here, but you should be able to. Keep me posted on exactly what they are saying."

"Why?" Cutemon asked, looking at Mervamon curiously. "You want to spy on the conversation, kyu?"

"Not spy exactly," Mervamon shook her head. "But anything that we can glean from the conversation could potentially be useful. After all, we know next to nothing about this world. And I do get the feeling that there is something that our companions are not telling us."

Cutemon nodded – he had got that selfsame feeling. But of course he was not generally one to pry. Still, he supposed that it couldn't hurt to listen in. So he quickly clambered to the top of the rockpile when he could hear and listen in closely without his sense organs poking over the top.

* * *

It seemed that the Digimon had gone into hiding just in time. It was only about twenty seconds after Mervamon had ducked behind the rocks that the first sound of hooves became audible to the rest of the group. Except, of course, the Legolas since he had been able to hear them for a while now too. It was accompanied by the loud nickering of some horses, and almost sounded like it was still in the distance.

Aragorn had pulled the rest of the group to one side – while he had faith in the skill of the horsemen he did not particularly want to be right in their way. The group made it look as if they were just coming in for the first time, and had had no inkling that the riders were inbound at all.

When the riders finally did crest the hill, it seemed as if there were so many hooves pounding against the ground that the ground itself was shaking, just a little. It produced a constant backdrop of hammering noise. But, as always, Aragorn was most impressed with the way that the Men steered their horses. Riding on a horse could sometimes be quite tough, as the animal did have a mind of its own and did not always listen to the commands of its rider. And yet, the front line of the riders was in perfect synchrony. Each horse's head was perfectly level with the heads of all the other horses in the row.

Aragorn wondered if he should call out, but it turned out that there was no need. They were spotted almost immediately by the front-runners of the line. The Man at the front that Legolas had spotted snapped his head around to look at them. He quickly raised his spear and pointed it in their direction, signalling the rest of the horsemen to move with him as he steered his own mount around.

"Not entirely sure I like where this is heading," Gimli muttered.

But it appeared that the Dwarf needn't have worried. Though once again the horsemen displayed their stunning skills by effortlessly wheeling around while keeping formation with their steeds and the front rows then breaking forwards at either side to form a circle and begin to surround the group. From her hiding place, peering out behind a rock, Mervamon tensed – unsure if things were just about to go down or not. But she needn't have worried either.

This was because Boromir had stepped forward with a wide smile on his face. And the Man with the horse plumed helmet that was doing the leading immediately pulled to a halt as he locked eyes with the Gondorian Man.

"Keep your spears raised!" He ordered to the rest of the group. "Looks like we are in the presence of allies."

"Well, look what the horse dragged in," Boromir gave a hearty chuckle as he and the others were still surrounded by the horsemen but any sense of hostility that may have been there before was now gone. "Éomer, my good Man, how are you faring?"

"Lord Boromir," the Man – Éomer – quickly swung himself off his horse to land with a heavy thud. "Of all the people that I was expecting to find within this region, you were probably one of the last. What's the son of the Steward of Gondor doing all the way up here? Should you not be down South doing your best to rid Gondor of the forces of Mordor?"

"I could ask you a similar question," Boromir laughed. "We are a very long way from Edoras, after all."

Both Men laughed and pulled each other into a comradely embrace, smacking each other on the back in the process, perhaps slightly harder than necessary, but that was common practice among many that recognise the other to be a warrior, like themselves.

"Rohan has fallen on hard times," Éomer said with an air of distaste as he pulled out of the hug. "I am not out here of my own choosing. But still, it is nice to see a familiar face. No matter how unexpected that face's appearance may be. And who do you travel with? Unusual company in these lands to be sure. An Elf and the Dwarf? I cannot even remember the last time that any of those two races were down in the Plains of Rohan."

"These are my travelling companions," Boromir gestured with his arm. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin of the mountain of Erebor. This is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and Prince of Mirkwood. And this…" he clapped Aragorn on the shoulder. "Is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir of Isildur."

Aragorn looked slightly shifty the moment that his lineage had been brought up but there was some instant murmuring among the other Men, and Éomer's eyes widened. "Heir of Isildur? How can that be? I thought that the line had broken many years ago. Is that not why your Father currently sits on the throne of Gondor?"

Boromir winced visibly for a split second, knowing that he was about to say something against his own Father, but then he said, "My Father is merely caretaking the throne until the King returns. That is the way that it has always been. And if all goes well then in the near future the King will return. Gondor will have… the rule that it requires."

Aragorn was rather surprised to hear Boromir say that. But he was grateful nonetheless. Boromir was an extremely proud Man, and had at first been rather indignant at the fact that the Dúnedain Ranger of the North could suddenly appear and claim to be heir to the throne of Gondor. It was hardly surprising considering his Father had been Steward for many, many years now. But it seemed that Aragorn's strength to give up the One Ring had definitely made an impact on the Gondorian Man.

Éomer seemed mildly surprised to hear Boromir say those words as well, probably for the same reasons as Aragorn. But he made no comment on it, choosing only to give Aragorn a curt nod and scan the other two before saying, "Well, if you are travelling companions of Boromir that is good enough for me. For a moment there, I thought that we had come across some spies out in the open. But it appears that I was wrong. It is an honour to make the acquaintance of all of you."

"You are most welcome," Aragorn nodded back. "And if my guess is correct then you would be Éomer, son of Éomund, First Captain of Rohan."

"You guess correctly," Éomer said before his face suddenly twisted into a grimace. "Or rather you would have done, if I was still First Captain."

"Still First Captain?" Boromir gave him a frown. "How can you not be still First Captain?"

"I did say that Rohan had fallen on some hard times, did I not?" Éomer muttered. "Well, that is part of what I meant. I am almost grateful now to be in the presence of a King who actually has his head about him. Even if he is not currently in his own kingdom or ruling his own land. For the same cannot be said of Rohan's King, my uncle."

"King Théoden?" Boromir asked with concern. "What has become of him?"

"I'm surprised that you have not heard of the King's condition already," Éomer said ruefully. "He does nothing now but sit despondently on his throne, and the only person that he will now listen to is his advisor. Any time I or my sister try to get a word in edgeways, getting him to listen to anything about the condition of the kingdom, all we would get his near silence and a blank stare. It is the work of sorcery; that much I do know. And it probably has something to do with that slimy advisor, Gríma Wormtongue."

"But he is alive then?" Boromir asked.

"You could barely call it alive," Éomer growled with a visibly clenching fist. "He barely responds to anything now. I cannot even remember the last time I saw him eat anything. But yes, he is alive."

"What makes you suspect it was sorcery?" Legolas asked, speaking for the first time. "Could there potentially be another explanation?"

"I highly doubt it," Éomer shook his head. "It is not just the King's mental state that has deteriorated. It seems to be his physical state too. I have not seen him stand up for weeks now. And his hair seems to have grown out at an alarming rate. Much faster than any natural growth. The same goes for his skin. My uncle is an ageing Man – that I will admit – but skin does not get as gnarled as that in such a short time naturally. He's not even ruling the throne anymore. He simply does whatever Gríma whispers in his ear."

"That does indeed sound like sorcery," Legolas murmured.

"The sorcery of Saruman," Éomer nodded. "I have little doubt that Saruman is speaking through the little worm that hovers by the King's side. He has poisoned my uncle's mind and is practically in control of everything that happens in Rohan already because of it. Rohan's doom is all but certain in this condition. Because despite his grip, Saruman is still sending troops in murdering and pillaging amongst the outer villages. It will not be long before he reaches Edoras. Then he will no longer need a puppet. Because that is effectively what my uncle now is."

"Can you not do something?" Gimli asked gruffly. "If you are so sure that this Wormtongue person is the one corrupting the King then why not just stick a sword in his stomach? It would save a lot of trouble and bother if you ask me."

"I was sorely tempted," Éomer said ruefully. "But to kill the King's advisor could potentially be seen as an act of treason. That was the only thing that held me back. And now rectifying the situation is no longer an option for me. For thanks to that toad's influence, every able-bodied Man of the Rohirrim that is under my command as the First Captain of the Mark, as well as myself, have been banished from Rohan."

"Banished!?" Boromir suddenly yelled. "What outrage is this? You are the nephew of the King! You cannot be simply banished from its borders like a common criminal!"

"Nevertheless, that is the case," Éomer sighed. "I am still gathering my Men together, but as soon as we are all together than we must all leave. Many of the people surrounding you have been forced to leave their families behind as well as everything they know besides the horses they now ride. The Mark is destined for destruction. And there is nothing that can prevent it now. Saruman is clever and he has systematically weakened all of Rohan's strengths right before he strikes. It will not be long before the main army follows on the raiding parties that are already sweeping across the Westfold."

"Something must be done!" Boromir cried. "You cannot simply allow this to happen, Éomer! What about Théodred? Surely he did not sanction this!"

"I fear…" Éomer grimaced, "That my cousin is not going to live much longer. I found him at the Fords of Isen a few days ago, barely alive, and returned him to Edoras, only to be banished."

Boromir looked shocked, and Éomer just nodded sombrely.

"There is nothing more that can be done on my part," he added. "It is not just the King that is being influenced by Wormtongue, it is his personal guard. They were the only fighting Men left in Rohan that have been allowed to remain. And if I or my Men return, it is on pain of death."

"I will do something if I can!" Boromir pressed. "If you cannot slay this treacherous advisor that you speak of then I will in your place. As soon as I can head to Edoras I will ensure that he cannot poison the King's mind anymore."

"It might be too late for that," Legolas reported. "If it is Saruman that is speaking through this Wormtongue then it is Saruman who must be eliminated to stop the spell. The only other way to counter it would be through magic. And none of us possess magic enough to help in that regard."

"But we must find a way!" Boromir protested.

"And once we have finished our current objective," Aragorn tried to placate the enraged Gondorian. "Then there will be nothing stopping us from heading over to Edoras immediately to see what help we are capable of being. Even if we cannot free the King then at least we should be able to rally some defences."

"You extend the hand of friendship to Rohan even though you are a total stranger to us," Éomer frowned. "If you truly are the future King of Gondor, should you not be seeing to your own borders first?"

"I am not the King yet," Aragorn replied, not mentioning the fact that he actually was not eager to take up the position. "It is the lands of all the Free People of Middle Earth that concern me. Wherever the darkness strikes, I wish to be there to stop it. And for the moment it sounds like Rohan is in more dire straits than Gondor."

"Then you are perhaps the most considerate King I've ever come across," Éomer replied. "But while I appreciate everything that you say you are willing to do, I fear that I will not be part of it. Neither will my Men. All we can do now is leave Rohan. Perhaps we will be able to make ourselves useful in other lands threatened by the darkness but our homeland cannot be helped by us. Not unless our banishment is revoked. And at the moment I see no sign of that happening. Rohan is lost to us."

"But Rohan is not lost altogether," Aragorn assured him. "Have hope, Éomer."

"I have very little of that left. Few people in the land do. The Westfold burns. Innocents flee for their lives and fall under the sword of Wild Men and Uruks. The King sits on his throne and does nothing, poison leaking into his ear with every word of his little leech. My sister, Éowyn, remains helpless in Edoras. And even she is under the watchful eye of that puddle of slime. Though I suspect for entirely different reasons." Éomer looked positively livid the thought.

"Nevertheless, Rohan still stands," Aragorn said. "And it shall continue to stand for as long as I have a say in it."

"You may find yourself up against more than you anticipate if you intend to follow through with that," Éomer replied bitterly. "Apparently the White Wizard has been tinkering with more experiments than merely this new breed of Uruk-Hai that have been appearing on our land. Just a few days ago, I believe, a magically altered warg managed to find its way into Edoras."

"Warg within the walls of Edoras?" Boromir blinked, alarmed.

"Apparently," Éomer replied. "I did not see it myself, but the King's Royal guard – including Háma and Gamling – both saw it."

"What makes you say it was magically altered?" Legolas asked.

"It had a similar stature and shape to a regular warg. But that's about as far as it went. Its fur was a bright orange instead of the usual brown, and it had what were apparently metal blades sticking out of its shoulders and chest. As well as more spiral blades that stuck out of its forehead, its back legs, and the end of its tail. It looked absolutely nothing like one of the regular Wolves of Isengard."

"We are not going to have to worry about them as well are we?" Gimli muttered.

"I very much hope not," Éomer sniffed. "But I would not hold out the hope. According to Gamling, the thing was extremely combat capable."

* * *

But as the group were talking, they were completely unaware that the conversation had taken a turn that totally startled a certain pink bunny. Cutemon's sense organs were practically standing on end, his eyes wide with shock. And some slight hope.

Did he just hear that right?

Orange fur? Spiral blades, which sounded a lot like drills to him. A Wolf? All in one go?

There was only one thing that Cutemon could possibly think of that match that description.

Mervamon gently tapped Cutemon's side, as the rabbit Digimon had been obediently repeating everything that the others were saying in a quiet, hushed tone. But suddenly he had gone very silent. "Cutemon, what is it?"

"Orange…" Cutemon muttered almost unintelligibly.

"Excuse me?" Mervamon blinked. "Orange? What about oran... NO CUTEMON!" She cried as the pink bunny suddenly sprang over the rocks and out of hiding. She attempted to grab him with her normal hand but Cutemon proved to be extremely nimble on his tiny feet when motivated and hopped out of her grasp without realising that she had even tried to grab him. Mervamon stood up and watched him bouncing his way towards the horses.

And to make things worse, a couple of the riders had heard her shout and were now looking over their shoulders at him before spotting her.

"Oh good," Mervamon rolled her eyes. "So much for hiding away then."

"My Lord Éomer!" One of the horsemen cried. "There's someone watching us!"

"What?" Éomer suddenly wheeled around with narrowed eyes. "Another spy? I have not yet left Rohan's borders. I can still take one spy to the grave before I go!"

"So much for hiding away then," Gimli muttered, unaware that he'd just echoed Mervamon, and so quietly that only Legolas heard him. But the Elf agreed.

Mervamon dashed out from her hiding place behind the rocks, wondering what the heck she was supposed to do now. But before either she or the horsemen could really react to one another, Cutemon had dashed through the legs of the horses helter-skelter. Some of them noticed him and whinnied, rearing back on their hind legs in surprise, causing a certain amount of chaos within the ranks. Several others didn't seem at all and the little bunny slipped through unnoticed.

But needless to say, Éomer certainly noticed Cutemon when he bounded up from the ground in front of him to land right in front of his face and cry "What was that about an orange Wolf, kyu?"

Éomer cried out and almost fell backwards in surprise at the sudden intrusion to his personal space. He probably would have fallen over completely if Boromir had not been there to stop him. Cutemon had to rebound off Éomer's face to stop himself from being thrown off, and landed on the saddle of Éomer's own horse.

"What in the name of the Riddermark?" Éomer yelled, staring at the little creature that had supposedly assaulted him. "What is this? More black sorcery?"

"Somebody get it!" cried a random member of the Rohirrim. "It just tried to attack our Captain!"

"What? No I didn't!" Cutemon suddenly yelled, waving his hands madly. "I just wanted to know about the strange orange Wolf! I think it might be…" but before he could say anything more, one of the Rohirrim had leaned over to try and stick him with his spear. It was quite awkward considering the weapon was so long, but Cutemon still had to jump out of the way to avoid being skewered. He landed on the shaft of the weapon itself, clinging on for dear life, and the horseman wielding the spear heaved it upwards in response.

Cutemon was immediately sent flying into the air, falling head over heels and squealing the whole way.

"How dare you!" Mervamon cried as she ran forward, raising the Medullia. Many of the Rohirrim had not taken the time to notice her unusual arm and once they got a load of it there were cries of shock coming from everywhere. Then even further cries when Mervamon lashed it forwards, the large snake extending outwards like it was made of elastic to seize Cutemon in its jaws, teeth closing over Cutemon's form to completely seal him in darkness and yank him backwards towards Mervamon.

Mervamon flipped the Medullia's head upwards, jaws opening to toss Cutemon into the air again, before he landed safely in her regular arm.

"You do realise that that is the second time I have had to do that since we arrived in this place," Mervamon said sternly. "Let's try not to make it a habit that I need to do shall we?"

"No offence, kyu, but I agree with you on that point," Cutemon shuddered. "It's absolutely disgusting in there, kyu. I thought for sure I was going to be swallowed – I've seen you swallow an entire Minotarumon with that thing, kyu!"

"Well, fortunately for you the Medullia does have some self-control," Mervamon muttered, the snake head in question hissing as if to acknowledge her statement. Or confirm it. Sometimes it was difficult to tell whether the Medullia had a mind of its own or not. And for some reason nobody particularly wanted to ask it. Or Mervamon. "But right now we have a larger concern. Namely, the horsemen all staring at us."

Éomer, having recovered himself, quickly pushed himself to the front of the line, standing out in front of the ranks of others with his sword drawn. "It would seem I was right!" he cried. "It seems that the orange Wolf that I have heard of is not the only thing that Saruman has created to plague my land. You chose a bad time to reveal yourself, spy! I don't even know what kind of twisted magic Saruman had to use to create you. A snake for an arm… quite fitting really. Snakes have tongues like a worm. If I can do nothing about Gríma Wormtongue than I can surely do something about you."

"Don't test me," Mervamon glowered at him. "I have no desire to fight those who seek to protect others from the hand of evil but if you threaten myself or Cutemon here then I will have little alternative. I will not allow you to bring harm to the kid. Not while he is under my care."

"Rohirrim!" Éomer lifted his sword. "Reform the line! Prepare to trample this witch into the dirt!"

"Witch!" Mervamon bristled. "I assure you I am no witch. I am as much a warrior as you." And before Mervamon realised what she was doing – she was well-known for her short temper after all – her enormous sword had appeared out of nowhere, flashing into her hand out of thin air as she dropped Cutemon to the ground and stood in front of him protectively.

"What is this magic?" Another horseman cried, stunned in disbelief at the sight.

"Hold! Hold!" Boromir was crying as he pushed his way through the crowd and back towards Éomer. "Stand down, Éomer! You have no enemies here! Those two are no spies of Saruman, nor Sauron."

"My Lord Boromir, how can you say that?" Éomer demanded indignantly. "It is true that it is most unusual for someone like Saruman to recruit a woman to use his experiments on, but I am willing to believe that there is nothing the White Wizard would not stoop to. She will not be allowed to report back to him."

"You have it wrong!" Boromir insisted, placing a steadying hand on Éomer's sword hand. "They are our travelling companions. They have been with us for nigh on three days now, and have run with us all the way here from the Falls of Rauros. In fact, without the small pink one, I can safely say that I would not be standing before you today. Because I would have passed into the halls of my Fathers and away from this world."

Éomer glanced across at Boromir, looking alarmed. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Boromir grimaced, as if recalling a bad memory, before he said, "Sometimes it seems almost surreal. As if the whole thing was a dream. Even while I was running it sometimes felt like that. Yet it is true that the pink one saved my life. Cutemon has incredible healing powers. Three days ago, my company and I were attacked by a large party of Uruk-Hai and would you believe me if I told you that I was shot with arrows three times in the chest and stomach?"

"What?" Éomer blinked, momentarily startled out of his thoughts. "Shot? But you have not a mark on you…"

"Yes. Thanks to Cutemon."

Éomer paused for a moment, and seemed to take in the name which had been used to describe the pink creature for the first time because he suddenly snickered and said, "Cutemon?"

"He came with the name," Boromir muttered. "It was not my decision to call him that."

"Hey! What's wrong with my name, kyu?" Cutemon demanded, pouting so much he looked more like a chipmunk than a rabbit as he leaned around Mervamon's leg.

"Nothing," Boromir called across to him. "Absolutely nothing. But the point is, Éomer… I was almost killed. But Cutemon has amazing healing abilities – far beyond anything that I've ever seen before. I have not even seen Gandalf or any other Wizard be able to do what he did that day. Perhaps they could if they tried, but nevertheless I have never seen it. After the arrows were removed, he was able to heal the wounds within half a minute flat. That is why I have no mark on me and why I still remain alive. But you can still see the holes where the arrows pierced my attire."

Boromir placed his hand on his chest and his finger through one of those holes, clearly demonstrating it to Éomer. Éomer stared in disbelief before looking back across at the two Digimon that were standing with their backs to the rocks.

"I must admit," Éomer muttered, "the pink one does indeed not look like something that Saruman could cook up. It's too…" and he seemed to struggle to come up with the appropriate word.

"Cute?" Suggested Mervamon with a wry smile.

"That was not what I was going to say," Éomer muttered.

As they had been talking though, the Rohirrim had been fanning outwards to encircle Mervamon, cutting off any escape for her other than straight up the rock ledge that she could been hiding behind in the first place.

"But if she is your travelling companion then what was she doing hiding away behind those rocks?" Éomer asked. "Are you certain that she does not have you in some kind of spell?"

"I am fairly certain," Boromir murmured. "Her snake arm ate the head of the Uruk-Hai that did the shooting. She was the one that helped to pull the arrows out of my body. And from what I hear, though I missed that part of the fight mostly, she is an amazing battler. A full frontal warrior. Definitely not spy material."

"Got that right!" Mervamon huffed. "I do not _do_ snooping around. I wasn't that comfortable with just hiding behind these rocks while the others met with you."

"You needn't worry about them," Aragorn stepped up on Éomer's other side of the pushing his way through the horsemen ranks, followed by the Elf and Dwarf. "They proved to be most valuable when we were ambushed at Rauros. They fought bravely alongside us against the forces of Saruman. Mervamon slew many of them that day. At first we wondered, like you, if they were spies of the enemy. But I no longer believe that. They have proven themselves to be good companions."

"If that is the case," Éomer turned to him. "Why did you instruct them to remain hidden from us? If they were not spies then surely there was nothing to fear."

"We were hoping to avoid of this confrontation," Aragorn replied. "As you say, these are dangerous times. There is treachery everywhere. And while I am certain that these two are not among those who do it, the same could not be said for you. We were hoping to bring their presence into light n a gentle manner – introduce them when we had finished our discussion. Unfortunately, they revealed their presence before we had the opportunity to bring it up. We must apologise for this, Éomer."

Éomer still looked uncertain, and considering the immense betrayal that he had undergone at the hands of his controlled uncle, you could probably excuse him for that. The other members of the Rohirrim were all looking to him, waiting on his instruction as to whether to attack or retreat but all of them had their spears levelled in Mervamon's direction, just in case. After all, they did not answer to either Aragorn or Boromir. They would take orders only from Éomer.

Éomer seemed to have trouble taking all of this in. So Cutemon decided to help in the equation by bouncing past Mervamon once again and cocking his head to one side, giving Éomer his best 'would you hurt me' look. It was the same look that he had given to Dorulumon in an attempt to get on the big Wolf's good side when they had first met.

Legolas chuckled when he saw his attempt. "Now, does that look like a minion of evil to you?"

"I like rainbows," Cutemon did a little twirl on one foot. Mervamon probably would have hit herself in the face with her palm if it had not been holding a sword. Cutemon would never ordinarily say that unless he was deliberately trying to be cute. Like now.

Slowly, but surely, Éomer lowered his sword. "Well if they are not spies of the White Wizard then who exactly, what exactly, are they?"

"It's confusing," Gimli said gruffly. "We're not entirely sure what they are ourselves, beyond the fact that they are both seemingly known as Digimon. The tall one is Mervamon, and you already know the little one is Cutemon. All the other information we have on them pretty much passed straight over my head."

"That probably wasn't very difficult," Éomer said with a slight hint of amusement. "After all, your head is not particularly high off the ground."

Gimli blustered and was about to come up with some retorts that would sound clever in his ears but probably not in most of the others' before Cutemon interrupted him by throwing in, "He's taller than me, kyu."

"I have never heard tell of a Digimon before," Éomer struggled to recall a memory, any memory, in which they might have featured.

"Nor had we until we met these two," Legolas confirmed. "And considering they claim to come from an entirely different universe, that probably isn't surprising."

Éomer merely stared at the Elf Prince blankly for several moments. Aragorn quickly did his best to explain what he understood of the Digimon. He left out a lot of the complicated things about data and computers that had been fed to him and he still could not understand – to be honest he was quite surprised he could remember the words 'data' and 'computer.' He told the basic version, of how the Digimon had been supposedly thrown into Middle Earth for unknown reasons out of a totally different universe and that there were apparently many of them, possibly scattered around the area.

Éomer looked totally flummoxed by the time that he had finished, as did most of the rest of the Rohirrim.

"I know," Boromir clapped him on the shoulder understandingly. "Seems implausible to me too. But I haven't seen anything that says that they're not telling the truth. At least not yet."

"They claim that there are no Dwarves in their universe," Gimli snorted. "Nor Men, or even Elves. Sounds utterly ridiculous doesn't it?"

"Calling their claims into plausibility does not particularly help," Legolas murmured to him.

"Well…" Éomer mused to himself. "I don't think that even a minion of Sauron would come up with a story as… strange as that one in order to find their way undercover. And if you trust them Boromir… then I suppose I can trust them to. Especially if one of them did save your life. That does add a lot of leverage in your favour."

"Yay! I'm helpful! Kyu!" Cutemon bounced up and down on the spot.

Mervamon dispelled her sword and snickered. "Well of course you are. You've been healing as all for years back in the Digital World. Which brings me to the question that I have to ask you, Cutemon. What the heck were you thinking? Charging out into the open like that? What did you overhear?"

"Dorulumon!" Cutemon turned to face her urgently. "They mentioned Dorulumon!"

Mervamon blinked, not having expected that. "What?!" She suddenly stiffened, her head whipping around to face Éomer. "You saw Dorulumon? When? Where is he now?"

"Dorulu…" Éomer faltered, with a frown. "I'm afraid I do not have a clue what you are referring to. I have never heard this name before in my life."

"It was the orange Wolf, kyu!" Cutemon was bouncing up and down with endless enthusiasm. "The orange Wolf that you said others saw. The one with the blades and those spiral blades on its head and tail, the ones that are actually called drills. You mentioned that he had been seen."

"That certainly sounds like Dorulumon," Mervamon agreed, hope filling up inside her that they might finally come across one of their own brethren soon. "Quickly, tell us everything."

"You are referring to the warg that was found in Edoras?" Éomer said in disbelief. "You know that creature?"

"He is not a warg, kyu," Cutemon insisted. "He is a Digimon, like us. He just happens to be one that takes the shape of a large Wolf with orange fur," he added. "Digimon have lots of shapes and sizes. And Dorulumon's one of my best friends. He is my guardian. He looked after me for a long time before I met with my other friends and after I got separated from my parents. You have to tell me where he is if you've seen him, kyu."

"So now one of the Digimon looks like a warg does it?" Gimli murmured. "You'll be telling that there is one that looks like a Dragon next."

"Actually, there are a lot of them that look like Dragons," Mervamon shrugged, making them stare at her in disbelief. "We have several Dragon Digimon amongst the members of Xros Heart. But they are not important right now. Dorulumon is. Tell us all that you know about the orange Wolf."

"All I know is that the warg…" Éomer halted for a second as he used the word that was apparently incorrect yet again, before ploughing on regardless, "… was mysteriously discovered in a pantry in the house of the civilian within the walls of Edoras. We don't know how it managed to get there, for there was no chance that something that large could have got so far into the city without being noticed. Even in the dead of night. The walls would have kept out a lone warg."

"I saw it myself," one of the Rohirrim volunteered. "We don't even know how it managed to get into the house without being seen. We suspected it was some kind of sorcery that led to its presence there."

"He must have landed in the middle of the city when he got transported to this world from our own," Mervamon guessed. "When we made our first appearance into this universe we landed in the middle of the river. I had to save Cutemon from drowning."

"You have to mention that again, kyu?" Cutemon shuddered at the memory. "That was the first time your hand almost swallowed me."

"Sorry," Mervamon mumbled. "But what happened after that? What has become of our friend…"

"… But…" the Rohirrim Rider protested. "He looked like a warg. How can a warg be friends with anyone that is not also friends with Saruman?"

"Because he is not a warg, whatever they are," Mervamon replied, though she did not particularly like the way that this conversation was going. "He's a spirited warrior, and one of the toughest members of Xros Heart there is. As well as one of the members that joined closer to the beginning of our travels. I was an extreme late-comer to the group by comparison. Dorulumon has fought countless battles in the name of good. There is no chance he would serve darkness. Not anymore."

"Anymore?" Legolas questioned.

"Yes, anymore," Mervamon nodded. "We might all be good Digimon now, but we don't all have a perfect track record. There was indeed a time in the past were Dorulumon worked for the side of evil. But he was never evil himself."

"That's right, kyu," Cutemon piped up in his Guardian's defence. "Dorulumon said that the way the evil guys treated their comrades just didn't sit well with him, kyu. Because they would always sacrifice their own troops if it meant achieving a victory, kyu. That's why he ran away from the bad side."

"But he is most certainly a good guy now," Mervamon agreed. "He and I have fought alongside one another many times. He'd put his life on the line for those he cares about. What happened after he was found in this city?"

"Well we assumed he was a warg," the Rohirrim rider stated. "And since wargs are always aligned with the dark powers we tried to kill him…" he was cut off by a wail from Cutemon and seething hiss from Mervamon as she bared her teeth at him. This caused him to add, very quickly, "But we didn't succeed… he was too fast for us. He managed to evade some of our best horsemen. He managed to slip through the gates moments before they closed and fled across the plains. We sent out search parties to try and find him but none were successful. He must have given them the slip somehow."

Mervamon still looked peeved, but gave Cutemon a reassuring look. "There. You see, Cutemon. We don't need to worry so much about Dorulumon. He's a survivor. After he fled the Bagra Army he was on the run for three years before he was finally tracked down. And he had the wrath of Tactimon after him and you to look after for one of those years. I'm sure he'll still be in good health when we finally meet up with him again."

Cutemon cheered and beamed at Mervamon. "I hope so, kyu. I hope so."

"I think my perceptions of everything that I know are being challenged," Éomer shook his head wearily. "A creature that looks like a warg and yet is good. This war against Sauron is truly turning Middle Earth upside down."

"Something tells me that it's going to get a lot stranger before the end," Legolas stated. And most of them knew better than to try and correct the Elf. Largely because they were all thinking the same thing.

"Unfortunately," Aragorn stepped forward into the ring of riders. "I think that we have tarried here long enough. This has already taken longer than I would have liked. We must return to a pursuit of the Uruk-Hai. We have been following the survivors of those who attacked as a Rauros across your plains, Éomer. They have taken two members of our Fellowship captive. A pair of Halflings by the name of Merry and Pippin."

Éomer sent him a sidelong look before saying, "You need not concern yourselves with those Uruks anymore. We ambushed them last night and slaughtered them."

This instantly got the attention of the four members of the Fellowship, and they converged around Éomer.

"What about the captives?" Gimli pressed him. "What has become of them? Are they safe?"

"A pair of Hobbits from the Shire," Legolas agreed. "The size of children, beardless with curly hair, hairy feet. Did you see them?"

Now Éomer was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. It took a full ten seconds before he said the next part of his tale. "There were no survivors," he said gravely. "We killed every last one of them. You can see the smoke on the horizon of their burning bodies from here." He turned and nodded in the direction that the horsemen had come from and, sure enough, everyone could indeed see a plume of smoke rising up into the sky.

"We made a funeral pile with the dead. If you could call it a funeral. Scum like those Uruk-Hai do not deserve a funeral of any kind," Éomer continued. "We saw nothing that resembled children during the fight… but that does not mean that we missed one or two."

There was a pall of silence that fell over the group. Every single member of the Rohirrim was suddenly looking very guilty. As far as they knew, none of them had actually slain a Halfling last night. But it had been pretty confusing, and dark when they had piled bodies up. Was it possible that they had actually killed an innocent during the fight and not realised they were an innocent, even after tossing them on the pyre?

Such a thing did not bear thinking about, and yet none of them knew if they were guilty or not.

But worst hit were the members of the Fellowship. All four of them were now looking at the ground, with white faces, Legolas resting a hand on Gimli's shoulder. Boromir's fist was tightening so much that his nails were beginning to cut into his palms. And Aragorn… just looked despondent. He was supposed to be the leader of the Fellowship in Gandalf's stead. And now it had come to… this?

Two of its members heading off towards Mordor and very probably their doom.

Two members captured by enemy forces and probably already dead.

One member who would have been dead were not for the intervention of a pink bunny from another universe.

Some leader he was. A very fine King indeed, he didn't think.

Éomer was still looking very uncomfortable, but he was doing a quick headcount as well, before he quickly whistled four riderless horses over towards them. "Hasufel, Arod, Rochallor, Felaróf," he called out their names. Obediently, but horses stepped forward. Hasufel and Rochallor were both brown in colour, Arod was a bright white and Felaróf was a deep black.

"I do not know how much use these will be to your journey," Éomer said as he grasped their bridles. "But take these horses in good faith and we shall depart as friends. May they be fleet of foot and take you to where you wish to go. And may you not suffer the same fate as their former riders, who perished in the attack the night before."

Wordlessly, Aragorn took the bridles from the First Captain of Rohan, or former First Captain of Rohan. Éomer gave him one final apologetic look before he left to clamber back on his own horse. Mervamon approached the group, and several of the nearby riders tensed, still not fully comfortable with her presence. And not particularly helped by the fact that her arm lifted up and seemed to regard them.

"Farewell then," Éomer said once he was back in the saddle. "I hope that you, all of you," he added with a look to Mervamon and Cutemon, "Reunite with your friends. Whether they be Halfling or strange orange Wolf that resembles a warg but isn't. In terms of the Wolf we can do nothing to aid you. If you find him then you must convince the others that he is friendly. We must now leave."

"Thank you," Mervamon gave him a fanged smile, which was slightly unnerving for the Man of Rohan. "I hope that we meet again, Éomer. You seem like a dependable fellow."

"We'll see," Éomer sent her a brief smile of his own. "I wish you well. In any endeavour that you attempt to fulfil while you stay in Middle Earth. Who knows? We might need all the capable fighters we can get in the future. And every one of us here will no longer be able." He then called out to the rest of the group, "We ride North!"

Reforming the perfect synchrony quite quickly, the members of the Rohirrim peeled away from the circle that had been surrounding the group, the horses falling into step with one another with practised ease as they swept away in the same direction they had come in, heading East but beginning to turn towards the North. The small group that had spent the last three days running in pursuit of the Hobbits stood there and watched them leave for a while. None of them were particularly eager to reach the plume of smoke in the distance. Not anymore. They were afraid of what they would find.

* * *

Eventually though, they got underway. Getting Mervamon on a horse was slightly amusing, or would have been had not there been a morbid, worried atmosphere hanging over them. Still, the horse that she had chosen – Rochallor, because he was the biggest and the sturdiest and would probably be best suited to supporting her abnormally large size – eventually let her on, despite being absolutely terrified by her arm. Mervamon had to fold the Medullia behind her back to keep it well out of the way of the horse's view.

Then, with Aragorn in the lead and taking them in a straight line towards the pyre, they rode off. Cutemon was sitting on Mervamon's head, while Gimli was sitting behind Legolas.

Needless to say, the horses made much faster progress than any of them could on foot themselves and it was only about half an hour or so before they reached the distant pyre. It was an unpleasant scene, and Mervamon felt the need to close Cutemon's eyes or at least try and avert them. This wasn't anything like the remnants of a battlefield in the Digital World. Because in the Digital World, there were no dead bodies.

The ground was never covered in blood.

And there were definitely no severed heads stuck upon spears.

But that was definitely the case here. There was an enormous pile of bodies, burnt and blackened with the fire that had gone out a while ago but was still copiously smoking. The grass was stained in various patchwork patterns that made the yellowing grass look like a grisly mosaic. And the head on the spear belonged to Mauhúr, the Uruk-Hai who had, just last night, been the one to complain about eating the maggoty bread for three days. His last expression had been one of furious defiance and now it was permanently on his severed head.

Even Mervamon felt slightly sick. She was not used to this either. In their world, every enemy that they defeated disintegrated into data. She wondered how willing to fight enemies she would have been if the Bagra Army left bodies behind like this.

Nobody was able to say anything as they stepped up to the pyre, dismounting the horses as they did so. Mervamon had Cutemon nestled in the crook of her Medullia arm, deliberately turning him so that his face was against her stomach rather than looking around. Each of them regarded the pile of bodies as if it were a bomb that my go off at any moment. None of them particularly wanted to look at it, but each of them knew that the bodies of the Hobbit friends might just be in there somewhere.

Eventually it was Gimli that took up the horrible task, stepping forward wordlessly and beginning to sift through the pile of charred limbs, torsos and heads in search of any clue or any sign of the fate of Merry and Pippin. There was a grim silence as he did so, and after a few moments of Gimli using his axe to lever bodies aside, Mervamon passed Cutemon off to Boromir before stepping in herself, plunging her massive sword into the heap and giving it a large heave. The charred Orcs and Uruk-Hai cascaded over in a jumble, making the search significantly easier.

But no more pleasant.

And then, eventually, Gimli stumbled upon something that they were hoping they would not find. The Dwarf pulled what appeared to be a thin piece of leather from the pile. It meant nothing to Mervamon but apparently it did to him. He turned around, face slack, and held it up for the others to see.

"It's one of the belts that were given to them in Lothlórien," he mumbled, almost as if he wasn't really believing his own words. "By the Lady Galadriel."

Each of them stared at the small belt, wondering which of the two Hobbits it belonged to. But to them it seemed to be all the proof that they needed. The proof of the truth they did not want to hear.

The reaction was different amongst each of them. Legolas placed a hand over his heart and muttered something in Elvish, presumably some kind of farewell that neither of the Digimon could understand. Boromir sagged down, sitting squarely on the floor and burying his head in his hands, his head reeling at the fact that despite all his efforts to protect them, the Hobbits had still not survived. The fact that he had probably been the main force that drove the other two Hobbits away did not help him.

And Aragorn kicked a fallen helmet so hard that it smacked the severed head of Mauhúr and knocked the spear out of the ground, before roaring to the sky like a wild animal and dropping to his knees.

"I don't believe it," Gimli muttered. "All that running… and it wasn't enough."

"Do you see a body part?"

All four of the people from Middle Earth turned to look at Mervamon, who was glaring at them slightly.

"Can you identify any of the body parts in that pile as belonging to your two friends?" She asked, more forcefully.

"It's impossible to tell anything apart…" Gimli muttered. "It's all charred and blackened and…"

"Then what are you giving up on them for?" Mervamon demanded. "All I see is a belt. That belt could have been thrown on the pile at any point. Until you have solid proof that those Hobbits are dead, you should never give up on them. That is what we do in Xros Heart. We always have faith in our friends and that they will return to us until we see their data floating off into the sky."

This wasn't entirely true on Mervamon's part. Sometimes it was difficult to find evidence of the death of a Digimon considering their bodies vanished. But they were usually safe in the knowledge that the Digimon soul would be preserved and that their bodies could be reconstructed with the Code Crown. But as the Generals had told her, that didn't apply to creatures of flesh and blood like all of these were. If those Hobbits really were dead, then they were not going to come back. Ever.

And she already felt somewhat close to this group, even though they'd been doing almost nothing but running for three days. She did not want to see them like this unless it was absolutely necessary. Hence why she had told them not to give up.

Aragorn gave her a look, and Mervamon was pretty sure that it was an appraising one but she couldn't be totally sure. He then looked at the ground at her feet, frowned, and stood up to walk over to her. "Could you move aside please?" He asked gently. At first Mervamon was a little miffed when she noticed that he was staring at the large bare patch on the ground with great interest, which he had a foot planted in, she dutifully stepped aside.

Aragorn's hand brushed over the bare patch. "This is a Hobbit imprint," he murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear him but still just on the edge of their hearing. "I think Merry's. He is slightly taller than Pippin." He then placed his fingertips and another, similar imprint on the ground next to it. "And this is Pippin's own imprint. They were lying on the ground, last night."

"Alive or dead?" Boromir had got up quickly to step up behind his fellow Man.

"Alive," Aragorn murmured. "I can see signs of their movement. And I can see that they attempted to crawl away." He got up and began to step forward slowly, examining the ground with each and every step and occasionally kneeling down again, staring intently at it. To Mervamon and Cutemon alike, it looked like the ground was a total mess of footprints and hoofprints that made absolutely no sense to them.

But somehow Aragorn seemed to be able to track two small individuals through that mess.

"Looks like their hands were bound," Aragorn muttered as he followed the trail. "They were not using their hands properly, and were using their elbows a lot. They got separated here…" he indicated the ground, there are only Legolas could make anything out and even then only when Aragorn pointed out.

Aragorn then noticed a large axe seated on the ground nearby and something heavily trodden into the grass next to it. He hurried over and lifted it up, pulling a twisted piece of rope from the ground.

"One of them managed to get free on this axe blade," he informed the others. "Pippin, I think. And it looks like he hurried over to Merry quickly to do the same." He flipped another piece of rope a short distance away with the toe of his boot. "Then they clambered to their feet and ran."

Mervamon was seriously impressed. She didn't think that she had seen anybody work something like this out from imprint on the ground alone – he was practically giving out a blow by blow of the battle that had taken place last night from the perspective of the Hobbits.

"It's a very zigzag run," Aragorn murmured. "It must have been all they could do to dodge the fighting. And…" he knelt down to the ground once again, where he could see a heavy bootprint, and the signs of some kind of struggle. "Something chased after them and attempted to grab them. An Orc… but it wasn't able to keep hold of them and they ran off in this direction…"

Everyone could hear some mounting excitement and Aragorn's voice now, and a renewal of hope. Aragorn increased his speed, following the zigzag run of the Hobbits exactly as they weaved their way through what had been a darkened battle zone.

"The tracks run this way… away from the battle… and…" Aragorn pulled to a halt right on the edge of the treeline. "And they go all the way in there. Into Fangorn Forest."

"That place looks scary, kyu," Cutemon muttered as he drew himself into a slight ball. And Mervamon actually agreed with him. It did not look like a particularly friendly place. It looked as if every single tree was silently telling them that walking past them and into the forest would be a very, very bad idea.

"They went in there?" Gimli shuddered. "What were they thinking?"

"They were thinking that they needed to survive," Legolas murmured. "This is good news, Gimli. We have not failed the Hobbits yet. They are still alive."

"Are we sure about that?" The Dwarf replied. "I'm not feeling particularly hopeful looking at this forest that they gone into."

"Nevertheless, it is something," Aragorn turned to smile at Mervamon. "You are right, Mervamon. We should not have been so quick to give up on them. There is always hope. Until it is over and you have solid proof that it is over, there is always, always hope."

"Got that right," Mervamon smirked. "Now, who's up for a delightful forest walk?"

* * *

Well, there you have it. No full-blown action, Éomer on the war path, style thing that we had with Faramir and Greymon. But nevertheless it was quite interesting. Hope you enjoyed it, and the deviations it made. The fact that Boromir remains alive is definitely going to change a few things. It is being one of them. No need for Legolas to attempt to pull an arrow on Éomer this time.

Well, I think that it would be bedtime for me. I won a decent night's sleep tonight, and if my housemates come in at 5 o'clock in the morning again… I may be forced to do something drastic… Geehee, just kidding, but I will certainly be very angry.

* * *

Next time…

Merry and Pippin flee further into Fangorn forest, determined to put as much distance between them and all the action that went on behind them last night as they can. Did they are still being relentlessly followed and they are unaware they're running towards something that will most definitely shock them.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 37 : Little Orcs**


	37. Little Orcs

Well, here's the second chapter of the week out just in time. Hehehe. For those of you who don't know because you don't read my other story, I have a new policy now and that is to get out one chapter of each story every week unless something comes up that prevents me, but there is also a second, more important one. I am no longer go to try and be consistent with the chapter lengths, as in many cases I felt that I was having to extend the descriptions and explanations and scene setting far longer than necessary to keep all the chapters around the 13000 word mark. It was starting to get to the stage where I was waffling a lot and losing interest in the writing so, now, here I am again a new chapter that is significantly shorter than the others, but which I feel does the job it was meant to do without a ton of extraneous stuff to drag it out. I'm quite pleased with it – this chapter was much more fun to write than they were normally getting because I did not have to force myself to think of extra things to put in.

I will definitely be doing this from now on. The chapters will be a minimum of 5000 words, but all the amount longer than that will depend on how long it takes to make the point the chapter was trying to make. And I hope you enjoy it anyway, despite its reduced length.

* * *

**To Be a King**

**Chapter 37:- Little Orcs**

* * *

Merry and Pippin were not sure how long they had been running for, but they kept on running anyway. They had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed since they had entered the trees, for everything looked pretty much the same and all they could tell from the faint light filtering in from above was that the Sun had come up.

Had they gotten far into the forest? Or had they been running around in circles. They could not tell. They certainly could tell though, that they were lost.

But right now they didn't care about that. It didn't matter, namely because they were still fleeing for their lives. Unarmed as they were, they knew they were no match for anything that might have it out for them and, although they couldn't be totally sure, they had both thought they heard the sounds of something crashing through the bushes behind them on more than one occasion. As if something was blindly running after them in an ungainly, but persistent, way.

The Hobbits were bone tired, but they kept going regardless. Neither one of them could say their time with the Uruks had been restful and right now all they really wanted was a place to rest. But for some time, they did not dare to stop.

When they finally did, the two Hobbits stumbled, one after the other, into a space between the two roots of a giant tree, sitting sagged against the trunk but still warily looking out around them, sharp eyes alert for any signs of movement.

They saw none, but the dark and oppressive forest seemed to peer in at them from all directions nonetheless. But right now, neither Merry nor Pippin were concerned with how spooky the trees looked. They were more worried about what might potentially come _out_ of those trees.

And they had a good reason to be fearful.

"Did we lose him?" Pippin whispered slightly to Merry, his breath ragged from all the blind running they had been doing. "I think we lost him."

For the first time in a while, both the Hobbits dared to allow smiles to creep across their faces at the prospect of their escape. Their freedom. They had had no idea what would have been in store for them at Isengard if they had reached their initial destination in the hands of the Uruk-Hai but neither one of them wanted to think about it. But it seemed now, finally, they had made their getaway and it had been a successful one.

They were not prisoners and they had not been eaten by their captors. That mere thought alone also made them shudder.

But even as they began to relax a little more, there was the sound of bushes rustling nearby and the two Hobbits turned slowly, their facial expressions slipping into ones of horror as they saw the undergrowth violently thrashing in the direction they had come from. It was a clear indication that something large was making its way straight towards them.

And sure enough, moments later, the hulking form of the persistent Orc Captain, Grishnáhk – the only member of the company besides the prisoners to have survived the attack from the Rohirrim, surged out of the bushes. His head swung violently from side to side, his eyes seeking out the elusive Hobbit pray before his head swung around so fast to stare at them that his neck licked. But he didn't notice the difference.

The Hobbits started as his eyes fixed upon them and scrambled to their feet in a mad dash to keep going right as Grishnahk hurried after them with a snarl of, "I'm gonna rip out your filthy little innards!"

The Orc Captain was clearly wounded. He had taken a spear wound to the lower back during the initial stages of the attack and now he was having trouble walking. If he had been in the highest of health at the start of the chase, he would have caught the Hobbits a long time before now. But as it was he could still shuffle along at a fast pace, able to match the speed of the tired run of the Hobbits as the chase continued, the prey dashing wildly through the trees and trying not to get separated from each other as he stumbled on after them.

"Come here!" he snarled after them, but of course the Hobbits didn't listen. And even if they had, they would not have obeyed him.

The chase continued for a short time until Merry looked over his shoulder and saw no sign of Grishnáhk. But he definitely didn't think that this was good news yet. Grishnáhk was not about to give up pursuing them so easily. He grabbed Pippin's arm to slow him down and the two of them looked around wildly, trying to see if the Orc Captain would come from another direction instead.

Panicked, Merry hissed, "The trees. Climb a tree!" And they both ran the short distance to the nearest trunk, which looked fairly climbable. Merry helped Pippin up first and began to scramble up the trunk after him. Both were seasoned tree climbers and had done this many times when they were younger in the Shire, Merry especially. But even as Merry scrambled a fair distance up the trunk, he paused too look all around at the landscape again.

There was no sign of Grishnáhk.

"He's gone," he breathed in relief, looking up at Pippin. "I think that its…" and suddenly he was jerked downwards as a clammy hand caught his ankle in a grip tighter than a vice and jostled him bodily downwards. Pippin looked over his shoulder in horror as Grishnáhk, who had somehow managed to sneak up on them even injured as he was, tugged hard and pulled Merry right out of the tree, to land with a thud on his back, the Orc looming over him.

Merry quickly retaliated with a swift kick right to Grishnáhk's face, but while the Orc jerked back from the strike, it only seemed to serve to annoy him and anger him further, and, with a hiss he stepped forwards and stood over Merry once more, his horribly curved sword poised to strike down at him.

"Merry!" Pippin cried, from his position in the tree.

But there was nothing that Pippin could do by hang there from the tree and watch as the Orc raised his sword still further.

Except it was at that point that Pippin saw something out the corner of his eye.

A red shape moving through the trees in their direction at high speed. One that he couldn't make out, but one that was heading directly for Grishnáhk.

"Let's put a maggot-hole in your belly," suggested the Orc nastily, with a cruel leer on his face as he reached forward to possibly grasp Merry's throat, enjoying the look of terror on the Hobbit's face for as long as he could before he wiped it and all other expression except pain off that face. And all Merry could do was lie there and wait for the end to come.

It came.

But not for him.

Grishnáhk was taken totally off guard when something slammed into the side of his head so hard it fractured his skull and sent him flying through the air to slam into the trunk of a nearby tree. He roared with the pain and managed to peer over to look at what had attacked him, only to see some kind of three-pronged club clattering to the ground right next to the floored Hobbit.

"Yeah, if there's one thing that's really going to piss me off," a voice said as the person who had thrown the club thing stepped into view nearby, "It's some jerk like you threatening someone who can't fight back. I've seen enough of it in my time that I can practically smell it. Or maybe it was just the fact that you really do stink because let's face it, you do."

Grishnáhk and both the Hobbits stared in bewilderment, despite the pain and the fear that all three felt and varying degrees. None of them could hope to put a name on the creature before them – a large, two-legged Lizard-like creature with a pronged crest on top of its head in the shape of a large V, a silver breastplate, jagged mouth and horned nose.

Shoutmon, for that was indeed who it was, stepped over to the microphone that he had flung straight at Grishnáhk's head and held it aloft, ready to be used again at any moment. "And I highly suggest you back down now, if you know what's good for you," he added.

Grishnáhk, though, was beyond reasoning like that. This creature, whatever its intentions, was not about to take away the pleasure of killing and eating those two former prisoners that were now behind it. Despite the pain of his broken skull and the spearwound in his back he staggered to his feet and took a wild, swinging charge right at him.

"Alright then," Shoutmon grimaced. "Then make sure you carve this name into your black heart. I am SHOUTMON!"

And he sprang forwards with incredible speed and slammed Grishnáhk's sword away with the butt of his mic before spinning around in mid-air to smash the business end of it into Grishnáhk's broad chin, snapping it upwards with enough force to break the Orc's nack. Grishnáhk crumpled over backwards in a heap and Shoutmon landed in front of him, looking down at the dead body with a grimace behind is eyes.

"I don't like killing people," he said. "But I'm not about to turn my back on a couple of innocent kids just to let scum like you live."

Merry and Pippin stared at Shoutmon's back in shock. So much so that Pippin actually lost his grip on the tree that he had been holding onto and dropped to the ground with a relatively painful thud. Shoutmon was almost suddenly reminded of their presence and turned around to face them, Merry having scrambled to his feet to help pull Pippin out of the leaves. Luckily, nothing had been broken in the fall.

Shoutmon stared at the two individuals before him right back. It seemed he had been lucky to run into them when he had. He had just been heading out for a small stroll, intent on stretching his legs after spending most of the previous day sitting on a rock and waiting for something to happen, when he had heard the sounds of struggling and some yelling coming from nearby and run to investigate, knowing that those sounds were rarely ever a good thing.

He'd shown up just in time to see what was going on and put a stop to it. And now that he looked around he found that this was pretty much the spot that Treebeard had been standing in when Gandalf and he had come to speak to him. He wondered if the Ent would have still been here to do something about it himself had Deckerdramon not shown up and distracted him, but right now that did matter. What did matter was the well-being of these two, who were no bigger or smaller than most of the humans that he knew, such as Taiki.

"Hey," he gave them a small wave, placing his microphone across his shoulder and giving them a nod. "You two sure picked an interesting place to take a hike."

"What is it?" Pippin whispered to Merry, just loud enough to for Shoutmon to hear him.

"I don't know," Merry whispered back. "It looks like… a small Dragon…"

"Can it be…" Pippin muttered. "An actual Dragon?"

"I can hear you, you know," Shoutmon coughed. "And yes, I am a Dragon, but I am a…"

Before Shoutmon could even finish his sentence, Merry and Pippin immediately turned and bolted further into the trees, dashing away from Shoutmon as fast as their short legs could take them. Shoutmon froze in place for a moment, wondering what, if anything, he'd just done. But then he remembered what Gandalf had told him earlier about the Dragons of this world, and how they were notoriously _not_ creatures that aligned themselves with good and had a bad reputation throughout the entire of Middle Earth.

Shoutmon grumbled to himself as he watched the Hobbits flee. But he also realised that the two of them were dashing off into a woodland full of potential dangers and he sure as heck was not going to let that lie. There'd be no deaths on his watch, and so he immediately sprang after the Hobbits at high speed.

Merry and Pippin ran on blindly as they had been doing for so long now. They had no desire to be in the presence of a Dragon – they'd heard all the stories about Smaug from Bilbo and didn't want to be around even a small one, which were surely also dangerous creatures. So they ran madly, bare feet thumping the tree roots and soil and rocks of the forest heedless of any pain in them in their mad desperate bid to escape from the small Dragon that involved a lot of weaving through the trunks of the trees.

"Hey! Come back!" Shoutmon yelled, but that sounded too similar to what Grishnáhk had yelled after them before and the Hobbits increased their speed if anything. Pippin looked over his shoulder and saw the small red lizard pelting after them, his eyes fierce and his staff held ready in his hand. Panic gripped him momentarily when he realised a forest was probably the most dangerous place of all to encounter a Dragon and piled on the speed to try and escape before he set fire to anything.

Shoutmon grumbled to himself, thankful that it had not been so difficult to get to know the humans of Xros Heart like this – even Akari and Zenjirou had not run away from him and they were clearly terrified of the Digital World. But it was clear that the Hobbits were not going to stop anytime soon so he quickly decided to go a different way than outright pursuit. Without asking the trees for permission, he suddenly bounded onto one of their trunks and sprang off it with a powerful double kick, twisting in the air to land feet-first on another trunk and spring off that too, then another and another, bounding from tree to tree as he veered around to the side.

The Hobbits glanced over their shoulders again, but saw no sign of the Dragon thing. But they were not about to believe him gone. Not after the last time when the Orc had managed to sneak up on them, and if anything the sudden lack of a pursuer made them increase their speed still further, desperately trying to keep ahead of a foe they could not even see.

Their efforts proved futile in the end though, as was proven when suddenly Shoutmon shot into their path and landed with a soft thump on the leaves after jumping off another tree. Merry and Pippin almost screeched to a halt and fell over one another, fear etched across their faces as Shoutmon turned to look at them with sharp eyes.

"Would you just listen?" he asked. "I'm trying to…"

He sighed when the Hobbits just bolted to the left instead and hared away into the trees again.

"Guess not," Shoutmon growled as he raced after them again, trying to figure out a way to get them to stop and stay stopped without whacking them over the head.

This kind of thing was clearly not his forte.

"Run, Pippin!" Merry cried. "It's gaining on us again!"

"I don't think we can outrun it, Merry!" Pippin shouted back.

"We have to!" Merry replied.

"No, you frigging don't!" Shoutmon roared after them as he did indeed begin to gain on them. "I'm not going to hurt either one of you, damn it! Didn't I just save you from the big, ugly guy not five minutes ago!"

Neither Merry nor Pippin believed him. They had heard all about the ways that Dragons could manipulate people with their words into thinking things that they shouldn't and they had no desire whatsoever to stick behind and find out if this Dragon was telling the truth or not. So, on they ran.

And it was at this point that Pippin tripped over a tree root and fell the ground with another thump.

Merry immediately turned back to help and tried to pull Pippin to his feet as the latter tried to scramble up himself, but Pippin only ended up stumbling to the floor yet again, something wrapped around his ankle. The Hobbit looked over his shoulder and gasped in astonishment when he saw the thick tree root that he had just tripped over had seemed to spring a life of its own, having risen out of the ground and encircled his foot, pulling him towards the trunk of the tree that it belonged to.

Maybe it had even lifted itself up deliberately to bring him to the ground.

"Pippin!" Merry cried once he also saw it, running to the root and attempting to pry it away, but immediately as he did so, another tree root rose from the ground with a small shower of soil and belted him in the stomach, knocking him onto his back amongst a cluster of other roots all belonging to the same tree. Before Merry realised what was happening, the roots had pressed down and around him, one of them shifting position to pin his shoulder to the ground while another skewing to the side to trap his leg as well.

Pippin's eyes were wide with horror as the entire bottom half of the tree seemed to come to life, more of the roots wrapping around his torso and pulling him into their woody embrace, trapping him against the base of the tree. The two Hobbits struggled wildly, yelling and crying out in pain as the wooden limbs compressed around them, like tentacles, shifting aside and around them like some kind of giant squid drawing them deeper into the base of the tree and attempting to bury them under their shifting mass of wood.

And all the while there was a terrible groaning going on, as the top half of the tree also began to shift and lean over, almost as if it was looking down at them without eyes, making sure that they were drawn as deeply as possible beneath it. The groaning and creaking noises the tree was emanating almost seemed to be the tree-equivalent of a sadistic cackling noise, watching delightedly as it drew the Hobbits down.

The other trees around were doing similar things, and now Merry was under no illusions that the things he'd mentioned last night about the moving, talking, intelligent trees were totally true. And if this is the kind of thing that happened in the Old Forest when a travelling Hobbit went missing… nobody would ever know what had become of him or Pippin but they would have died a fate similar to many Hobbits, the only difference being how far away from home they were.

"Help!" Pippin was yelling. "Somebody help! It's got my stomach!"

Merry gasped as it wrenched his other arm down with a writhing limb of wood and gritted his teeth, waiting for death to claim them. They had run from a band of Orcs and Uruk Hai, many of which were intent on eating them, to becoming the prey for this great tree. How, in any way, was this fair?

But suddenly he stopped and stared in disbelief as the red lizard Dragon creature bounded to a halt right in front of them and gave the tree a smack with its staff thing that he couldn't begin to name.

"Hey!" he roared, clenching his fist and glaring up into the leaves of the tree as if there was some face up there looking at him and ignoring the dent in the bark his blow had just created. "You listen to me, you woodworm-infested pile of fuel! You let go of these innocent people and let them go free or I swear to the Code Crown that this is going to get ugly!"

The trees around them all fell silent for a moment and the constrictions on Merry and Pippin stopped, and everyone got the distinct impression that the entire forest was staring at Shoutmon in disbelief for a moment. But then the groaning resumed, reaching an enraged crescendo as the tree thrashed violently at the top, as if it was trying to scream something at the lizard Digimon.

"I don't speak Vegetable," Shoutmon yelled back at them without batting an eyelid. "But I can tell you now that you're not going to go taking innocent lives on my watch, no matter how bad tempered you are. Did these guys ever do anything to you?"

The trees rumbling only seemed to increase and a root uplifted itself from the ground and snaked towards the lizard, but Shoutmon immediately brought his microphone to bear and slammed it aside like it was a cricket ball, sending it almost crumpling to the ground.

"Oh, so now you're going to go for me instead are you?" Shoutmon growled. "Newsflash, you're messing with the Digimon King here and while I may not be from around here, you're not going to make me back off. You want me to carve my name into your trunks because you know I could do that if I wanted to. Quite easily! Not let go of the kids before you really tick me off!"

The trees almost seemed to shrink back from him for a second before the ground rumbled slightly and it seemed that they were attempting to close in around him. Shoutmon was almost sure that they were moving in ever so slowly from all sides and the ground split underneath him from the movements of longer roots beneath the surface of the ground.

"Really?" Shoutmon growled. "You really are going to take this all the way? Would you just look at yourselves you walking matchsticks? You're attempting to smother a bunch of innocent people here. A couple of terrified lost travellers. Do not test me, because I am not going to turn my back on them, even if I have to take on the entire forest by myself I'm not just going to back away and let you suffocate them like this. You trees might be victims of the bad guys in this world that are always getting cut down and burned but right now you're the villain, not the victim. You can't just attack anybody you like because you're angry with other people!"

The trees made absolutely no move at all to back down, but Merry and Pippin were both staring at Shoutmon in disbelief, wondering why the heck this Dragon was sticking up for them so powerfully. Fortunately the tree seemed to have forgotten that they were only half wrapped in its roots until that point, but they both yelled and gasped as it started to constrict them again and pull them deeper into its system.

"That's it!" Shoutmon snarled and raised his hand, forming a flaming ball of Rock Soul between his three fingers. "Do we really need to do the math here?"

The trees lurched backwards visibly at the sight of the burning musical symbol that Shoutmon now held above his palm. They literally recoiled away from the fire and the groaning almost became a roar that drowned out everything else around them except for Shoutmon's voice, which rose up above the tumult.

"Release them or I burn my way through your roots until I can pull them out of there myself and then I'll burn a path out of these damn woods! You don't think I'll do it? I sure as hell will if you push me any further!"

The trees made no further move forwards, but it seemed that the one in question was unwilling to give up its grip on the two Hobbits. It was almost like some kind of impasse, with Shoutmon glaring at a knot in the trunk of the tree as if that symbolised the tree's face, though of course it did not have a real face.

And, after about ten seconds of this silent "stare-down" there was a loud voice through the trees that cried, "ENOUGH!"

Shoutmon grinned and extinguished the unthrown Rock Soul as he turned around to see Treebeard striding forwards with his great, long steps. The Hobbit's jaws dropped at the sight of the great Ent stepping towards them, and Treebeard took in the scene at a glance of his bright amber eyes, spotting the Hobbits trapped underneath the roots and Shoutmon squaring off with the tree in question.

"_Hoom_, what is going on here?" the Ent asked, in a voice that boomed out through the assorted trees in a much bolder tone to his usual breathy voice.

"I thought that would do the job," Shoutmon said, before pointing his mic at the tree. "This buddy of yours is attempting to murder a couple of innocent travellers. Would you get it to see sense and lift its roots up so they can get out from under there."

Treebeard's head tilted so that he could get a good look at the trapped Merry and Pippin before hooming again and saying, "They look like some kind of Little Orcs to me. Orcs are no cause for mercy, no matter how small they may be. The Forest will not show them any mercy."

"No…!" Merry suddenly cried. "We're… we're not Orcs. We're Hobbits, not Orcs! We haven't done anything wrong, Mister Tree! Please let us go!"

Treebeard harrumphed and was about to correct Merry before Shoutmon said, "Actually, he's not a tree. He's an Ent. Never heard of them? Because I sure hadn't until I came to this place. But anyway, they're like shepherds to the trees apparently. Though I'm not entirely sure what a shepherd is either so I could be wrong."

"Burarum," Treebeard muttered to himself. "That is of small importance, Shoutmon. What concerns me is that you, hroom, threatened my brethren with fire. This is a most, haroom, heinous action. The forest does not like it."

"Yeah well," Shoutmon shrugged. "I might have threatened them but I wasn't actually going to do it. I just figured if I did something big then word would get back to you and you'd be able to come and do something about all this yourself. Like when Deckerdramon appeared in the forest, you got word of it down the treeline even though he was a long way away."

"A ruse?" mused Treebeard.

"Yeah," Shoutmon gave the Ent a wry grin. "Look, mate, this is your forest and I know that you love it. Like heck I wasn't going to burn it down, but I'm also not going to stand by and just watch an injustice like this. It was an empty threat. Mostly. I might have had to take drastic action on this one tree if you hadn't shown up."

Treebeard regarded the Digimon King solemnly for several moments before he turned to the tree and said, "Away with you now. You should not be waking. Eat earth, dig deep, drink water, go to sleep. Away with you."

To the great surprise of both the Hobbits, the roots of the trees began to slacken and pull away from their bodies. Both of them immediately thrashed around to free themselves before they pulled away entirely, stumbling away from the tree to almost fall over some distance away before they stopped and looked around them, now realising they were standing between Treebeard and Shoutmon.

"They look like Orcs to you?" Shoutmon asked the Ent. "They look like Human children to me."

"We're not children!" Pippin protested. "We're fully grown adults."

"Just about in his case," Merry replied. "But… we're Hobbits, not Orcs."

"Hobbits, huh?" Shoutmon muttered, remembering something else that had been told to him. "Yeah… you've got the hairy feet…"

Before either one of them could react, Treebeard had bent down as well as giant being made of wood could and scooped them up into each hand, holding them at arms length and staring at them with a critical eye. "You have, hoom, pleasant voices. That I do admit. Not the usual harshness of an Orc voice. But you could be involved in some, hum, trickery. Orcs can come in many shapes these days and wherever they go, destruction follows…" they could hear the bitterness in the Ent's voice quite clearly. "They slash, they hack, they splinter us away to fuel their fires. They are stains on the world and leave nothing but stains in their wake. But they can be clever."

"No, you've got to believe us!" Merry cried, still getting over the fact he was talking to something that looked like a tree. "We're from the Shire. We're Hobbits. Some Men call us Halflings. We live in holes in the ground and tend to farms and gardens in a country far away from here. We love trees."

"We've got a big party tree right in the middle of Hobbiton that we all gather around to celebrate big events," Pippin agreed. "We'd never cut that down. And there's a forest a bit like this one just outside the Shire. We live alongside it in peace. We like the woods. Though this one is a bit scary."

"Like the woods?" Treebeard stared at them both in turn, and then stared at them both again, both of the Hobbits trying to look as sincere as they possibly could. "You like the forest? There are few left in Middle Earth that do who are not Elven Kind or Entish folk? You are sure."

"Yes, we're sure! And we're definitely not Orcs!" Merry cried.

"Not Orcs!" echoed Pippin eagerly. "Just Hobbits. Through and through."

"I think you can believe them, Treebeard," Shoutmon smirked. "They certainly don't look like evil people to me."

Treebeard still looked dubious before he said, "I shall have to ask for an alternative source first. And Shoutmon… you have stepped into dangerous territory with this rescue of yours. The forest has a long memory and anger does not abate quickly. The trees are uneasy with your presence and unhappy that I am not attempting to punish you."

"Yeah well," Shoutmon muttered. "I was bluffing, if that's any help." He stepped over to the tree that had been holding Merry and Pippin captive and patted its trunk, eliciting a slight rustling in the leaves above, but other than that no response. "No hard feelings, eh?"

"You are reckless to challenge the whole forest in such a manner," Treebeard pointed out. "Even in jest."

"I've been told I'm reckless a lot," Shoutmon replied. "But if you're not prepared to take some risks… then you're not really going to get anywhere with this kind of thing.

Treebeard shook his head slightly and said, "Come then, Shoutmon. Little Hobbit Orcs. We must consult the White Wizard to find the truth about what you are."

"The White Wizard?" Pippin blinked, before suddenly becoming very alarmed.

"Saruman!" Merry gasped. "No! You can't! You can't take us to Saruman! He's a traitor! He's turned against all the good guys and we just escaped from a group of Orcs that were taking us prisoner to him… for some reason."

"You can't give us to him to look at otherwise our escape would be meaningless!" agreed Pippin. "Trust us! We're not Orcs! Born and raised specifically not to be an Orc in fact. I'm a Took."

"I thought you said you were a Hobbit," Treebeard narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he stepped away, Shoutmon hurrying to keep up.

"I am, but am a Took by name. I'm Pippin Took and this is Merry Brandybuck."

"I am known by many names," Treebeard replied. "Many call me Fangorn, just as this entire forest is called, but I am often referred to as Treebeard as well."

"And I'm Shoutmon," the Digimon in question piped up from below. "And don't worry. We're not taking you to see this Saruman guy. Never met him before in my life."

"But… Saruman is the White Wizard, isn't he?" Pippin blinked. "You said that you were taking us to see the White Wizard so… wouldn't that be Saruman?"

"For once, Peregrin Took, you appear to be using your head," said an amused voice from up ahead, that caused both of the Hobbits to whirl around in disbelief. "Unfortunately, in this case, you are not entirely correct."

The Hobbits only had a brief moment to stare at the white robed figure standing before them before they were dropped rather unceremoniously to the ground by the Ent that loomed over them. The two of them quickly pushed themselves up though and stared in wide-eyed shock at the face that now gave both of them a kindly smile.

"I have been waiting for you to arrive," said the White Rider.

"G…" Merry struggled to say the word, natural disbelief in his voice. "Gandalf? Is that… you? Or is this a trick?"

"No trick, Meriadoc Brandybuck," Gandalf smiled. "It is indeed I. I am pleased to see that for all your ordeals you are still physically well and I can understand why you might choose to think this might be a trick. After all, last you set eyes on me was when I fell from the Bridge of Khazad-dûm with the Balrog, in the Mines of Moria. A fateful fall if ever there was one. But now I have returned until such a time as I am no longer needed in this world. And I am glad to see two members of my old company once again. Even if it is you, Pippin. I would severely regret my last words to you personally to be to call you a fool."

"I don't believe it," Pippin breathed. "It… really is you, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," Gandalf nodded.

"But you're so… different…" Merry stumbled over his words.

"Yes, Meriadoc, I am," Gandalf nodded. "I am much changed. As you can see I have assumed the mantle of the White Wizard rather than the Grey. It is a position that Saruman has no more claim over, for no longer is he a member of the White Council and nor is he a member of the Five Istari that wander these realms seeking to improve the world for the Free Peoples. Now, that burden has fallen to me, and I shall maintain it for as long as I can."

The two Hobbits didn't make any attempt at dignity whatsoever as they stumbled to their feet and ran to the Wizard to hug him. Gandalf didn't drop his staff but he allowed them to do it anyway, despite the fact the size different between them made it a rather awkward affair. But the Hobbits didn't care. They couldn't express their sheer relief that one of the two members of the party who they were sure had perished was standing before them. Especially one they had known as long as Gandalf.

Gandalf himself looked up at Treebeard and said, "You need not worry about these people, Treebeard. For they are, indeed, not Orcs. They are Hobbits of the Shire, just as they claim. And I have visited their homeland many a time and know these two troublemakers well. They are no threat to the Forest."

Treebeard nodded stiffly, which was about the only way he could nod. "Then, hum, right you were Shoutmon to try and free them from the Trees. Only, let us next time try and find a way of doing so without resorting to flames."

"It was a last ditch attempt," Shoutmon gave the Ent a grin.

"To be totally honest," another rumbling voice said from behind Gandalf. "I am quite surprised that you did not throw it, my King."

The Hobbits stepped back from Gandalf and peered around him to look at the speaker. Needless to say, when they saw the massive metallic alligator-like creature that was Deckerdramon rolling slowly towards them, the trees almost scurrying to either side of get out of his path as he did so, they fell backwards so hard their backsides literally went numb.

"Wha… guh… huh…" was the beginning of the confusing jumble that came out of their mouths.

Deckerdramon chuckled as his eye rolled to look down at them. "Such small creatures, you are," he said. "And yet I sense much love within the pair of you. You are very good friends with many people – that I can already tell. And you take those friendships very seriously indeed. Yes, I think I like the pair of you already."

"What… what are…" Merry stumbled over the words.

"Relax, guys," Shoutmon stepped between them and patted them both on their lowered shoulders. "You're just looking at Deckerdramon. Big lug's a lot less scary and imposing than he looks, let me tell you. Unless you're his enemy, which in your case, you are not."

"I could never harm people with hearts such as yours," Deckerdramon agreed as he tilted his head down to look at them. "You remind me in some ways of Nene's little brother, Yuu. You have no reason to fear me."

"What… are you… exactly?" Merry swallowed, still a little nervously.

"He's a Digimon," Shoutmon replied. "As am I. We're… not from around here, I suppose you could say."

"Wait a minute? Didn't you say you were the Digimon King?" Pippin asked. "Does that mean you're King of him?!"

"Kinda," Shoutmon shrugged. "Though I think it's safe to say he could easily beat me in a fight while I'm like this."

"You know as well as I Shoutmon that being able to win against all your subjects is something required to be a good King," Deckerdramon told him.

"Yeah, I know. I didn't say it was," Shoutmon replied, deciding to forgo mentioning his doubts on whether he could be an appropriate leader in a crisis without Taiki once again.

"Hierarchy here is unimportant," Gandalf brushed the topic aside. "Just know, young Hobbits, that these two are most definitely allies of ours, as is Treebeard here. You have nothing to fear from any member of this group, large and imposing though they may be. Treebeard and Deckerdramon are Forest Guardians both and now that they know you are allies, you are safe with them."

The Hobbits looked reassured by Gandalf's words, but they were still quite wary of both of the giants, especially the giant form of Deckerdramon.

"Does this mean that these guys are the reason we've been waiting here for a couple of days?" Shoutmon asked.

"Partially," Gandalf nodded. "The Lady Galadriel informed me that these two would make an escape and head here into the forest and that I should be there to meet them and that I have now done. But the rest of the company that they travel with, or most of them at least, have been pursuing the creatures which took them captive and will be here shortly themselves. It is they that you and I have come here to see, Shoutmon."

"Most of the company?" Pippin suddenly looked at the ground. "Then… it is true? Boromir is dead?"

"Dead, Peregrin?" Gandalf glanced at him. "Why should Boromir be dead?"

"He was struck by many arrows while he was defending us from lots of giant Orcs," Merry bit his lip. "He gave his life to save us and we still got captured by the enemy. He fought so hard and now…"

"Fear not, young Hobbits," Gandalf raised his hand. "Boromir still lives. I was informed that all the members of the Fellowship beyond the other Hobbits were making their way in pursuit of you and that includes Boromir. He has not gone to the halls of his fathers just yet."

"But… but the arrows…" Pippin blustered, unable to feel joy at the sudden revelation just yet. "He was weakening. He was collapsing. He had three arrows buried in his front. And he is still going?"

"Three arrows?" even Gandalf did look perturbed by this news. "We were not informed of any arrow wounds by our source."

"Maybe not," Shoutmon could feel a grin breaking out across his face. "But we were told that there were a couple of people that I might know with them. If someone made such a remarkable recovery as that so quickly… I think I might know who one of them is."

"Sounds like Cutemon's work to me," Deckerdramon agreed. "For a human to be up and running so fast after being shot by arrows… it is an impressive accomplishment. It can only be Cutemon."

"His healing skills are definitely first rate," Shoutmon nodded. "Sounds like your friend was lucky to run into him when he did."

Gandalf nodded. "Well, needless to say, we are grateful for Boromir's survival and perhaps we shall confirm the reason why that is the case soon. But I am afraid, young Hobbits, that although we have met again, we must soon part ways once more."

The Hobbits looked up at him in astonishment and began to protest, but Gandalf held up his hand to silence them before he continued.

"I do not wish for you to be upset by this, but know this. With the Fellowship broken, the task that we originally focused on is now in the hands of Frodo alone. We can do nothing to assist him further so now we must turn our attention to an equally great matter – the war itself. Once Aragorn and the others arrive I will be taking them on a different path, one which you Hobbits cannot follow, for neither of you are warriors yourself. No, you must remain here, where you will be in good hands. Treebeard, I must ask you if you would be willing to take these Hobbits into your care and keep them safe. You will be able to protect them from many foes here."

Treebeard looked down at the two of them for a moment, before he nodded his great wooden head and said, "Harroooom, if Gandalf says these Hobbits can be trusted then trusted they can be. And I must admit, I do like their little voices. It has been long since anything so small was under my care but I shall take them under my branches."

"Thank you, Master Ent," Gandalf nodded. "And I fear that everything from this point on must flow together soon. Treebeard, you know what I ask of you, do you not?"

"It has been many a year since anything of this ilk has occurred," Treebeard replied. "But it shall be as you say. We will convene."

"And I think that perhaps I should stay here as well," Deckerdramon replied.

"Say what?" Shoutmon looked up at the giant alligator. "You want to stay here? What for?"

"I believe that here I may be more useful if what I have understood is correct," Deckerdramon replied. "I have overheard all discussions and I know that I would not be able to keep up with you when you must leave here, Shoutmon. I am not built for moving fast over long distance and you will need to cover a great amount of that. Here… perhaps I can be of more assistance."

Shoutmon hesitated for a moment, but Deckerdramon did make sense. His giant form was capable of moving very fast when needed, but not for long and only on very even surfaces. He was better designed for moving slowly and purposefully over all terrains than trailblazing. And he had heard many of Gandalf's intentions to, and he had to agree with the Digimon's assessment of himself. Perhaps here he would be better after all.

"Very well," he nodded. "At least I will know where you are for later when we must gather again. And besides, I think you are definitely one of the Digimon I do not need to worry about, big guy."

"Flattering," Deckerdramon chuckled.

"But Gandalf…" Pippin protested.

"Peregrin Took, my lad, you Hobbits have many uses by outright battle is not yet one of them," Gandalf replied. "But my plan does not leave you out entirely. No, I believe that you will still have your role to play in all this. Just know that now you are safe. And now, Shoutmon and I must wait for the rest of the former Fellowship to arrive."

"Hope they don't take too long," Shoutmon muttered. "If I don't get to do something soon, I may actually throw a fireball at something just to see what would happen. KIDDING! KIDDING!" he yelled as the trees immediately grumbled in protest.

Deckerdramon chuckled wryly. "They should probably be thankful that you are not Greymon."

"Isn't that the truth?" Shoutmon laughed. "He probably _would_ have done by now."

* * *

Well, there you go. Like I said, not as long as normal but better because of it, I think. I didn't have to repeat points many times throughout the same chapter and such or come up with new topics of conversation to draw it out. This chapter did what it was meant to do and that is it. Still, hope you liked it.

Well, see you by the end of next week with the next chapter of this story. I think I've settled into my summer routine a bit more now. Bye bye.

* * *

Next time…

Golemon has continued to wander southwards for quite some distance until he eventually reaches the end of the mountain range he was following, but he isn't going to like what he finds at the end. Meanwhile, the Bombmon finally come up with another way of getting themselves out of the pits.

* * *

Coming up:- **Chapter 38 : Strength of Stone**


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